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CULTURE BY 
CONVERSATION 



CULTURE BY 
CONVERSATION 



BY 

ROBERT WATERS 

Author of " Intellectual Pursuits," " Life 

of William Cobbett," "John Selden 

and his Table-Talk," etc. 




NEW YORK 
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 

1907 



^ 



lilRAflYefCOflQRFSS 

TWoCoote H«cehr«l 

SEP U JW 

COPY 0. 



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Copyright, 1907 
By DoDD, Mead & Company 



Published, September, 1907 



To THE Memory of My Late Friend 
MAGNUS SCHOEDER 

TO WHOSE CONVERSATION I OWE MORE 

TRUE EDUCATION THAN TO ALL THE 

BOOKS I EVER READ 



** Reading is a rich source of knowledge ; observation is 
still better ; but conversation is the best of all ! " 

— Eastern Proverb. 

"A single talk across the table with a wise man is better 
than ten years' study of books." — Confucius. 

"The first duty of a man is to speak ; that is his chief 
business in this world ; and talk, which is the harmonious 
speech of two or more, is by far the most accessible of 
pleasures. It costs nothing ; it is all profit ; it completes 
our education ; it founds and fosters our friendships ; and 
it is by talk alone that we learn our period and ourselves.*' 

— Robert Louis Stevenson. 



CONTENTS 

Prefatory Note vii 

Introduction ix 

PART I 

EDUCATIONAL AND LITERARY INFLUENCES 
OF CONVERSATION 

CHAPTER 

I What May Be Gained by Conversa- 
tion 3 
II Some Examples of the Influence 

OF Conversation 13 

III What Some Men Have Accomplished 

by Conversation 24 

IV Conversation among Different 

Races 31 

V Conversation as a Germinator and 

Vehicle of Ideas 39 

VI Whence Comes the Inspiration of 

Literary Workers? 48 

VII Something More about the Sources 

OF Inspiration 54 

VIII Conversation vs. Argument and De- 
bate 67 
IX Reporting Conversations. — A Group 

OF Famous Talkers 76 



VI 

CHAPTER 



Contents 



X Repartee — ^Wit and Humoue 
XI Wit and Humour (Continued) 

PART II 

SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL INFLUENCES 



87 
101 



XII 



XIII 
XIV 

XV 

XVI 
XVII 

XVIII 

XIX 

XX 



The Conduct and Conversation of 
A Gentleman. — How to Become a 
Good Talker 
Various Kinds of Talkers. — City 

AND Country People 
Some Profitable Talkers. — Influ- 
ence OF Women 
Talks at the Twilight Club 
The Conversation of Authors 
Something More about the Talk 

OF Authors 
Conversations with Strangers 
Men of Address in Conversation 
A Specimen Conversation, Showing 
What May Be Learned in Half 
AN Hour's Talk 



117 

129 

143 
155 
180 

190 
204 
220 



234 



PART III 

SOME TABLE-TALK NOTES.— FUN, FACTS AND 

FANCIES.— THINGS WISE, WITTY 

AND COMICAL 



Table-Talk 
Index 



257 
333 



A PREFATORY WORD FROM THE AUTHOR 

It was the talks at the Twilight Club (New York 
City) — to which "institution" the author devotes an 
entire chapter — that first awakened him to the im- 
portance of Conversation as a means of Culture and 
intellectual development ; for by the talks at this club 
he had learned more of the living thoughts and move- 
ments of the day, more important and mind-quicken- 
ing truths, than he had ever learned or could have 
learned in any other school. These talks created in 
him an intellectual life, an awakening to the true 
sources of knowledge, a desire to excel in speech and 
expression, which scarcely anything else could have 
produced ; and all this without any effort whatever on 
his part, except listening and occasionally speaking 
in the course of the discussions. 

So he wrote for a New York journal several chapters 
on Conversation as a Means of Culture, which were 
so well received that he determined to complete the 
work when time and opportunity were afforded. 

This volume is the result. Not more, however, than 
one-fifth of the book has ever appeared in print be- 
fore. So that, with the exception of the chapter on 
the Conversation of Authors, that on the Twilight 



viii Frefatory JFord 

Club (without the specimens), and a £ew others that 
have been remodelled, the work is entirely new and 
original. 

The chapters are addressed chiefly to those younger 
and more progressive men and women who desire to 
make, in the exercise of their calling or profession, 
the most of all the means at their command for larger 
culture, wider knowledge, more numerous ideas, and 
greater efficienc}^ in the exercise of their powers. And 
as no other work exists, so far as the author knows, 
that shows the immense and many-sided advantages of 
Conversation, the author's hope is that it will afford 
many a useful suggestion, many a hint of practical 
value to that large class of people who are striving 
for culture while earning a living. 

I am indebted to the courtesy of Mr. William Heine- 
mann, the London publisher, for an interesting pas- 
sage from "Real Conversations," by Mr. William 
Archer. 

R. W. 

West Hoboken, N. J. 
June, 1907 



INTRODUCTION 

CONVERSATION, CULTURE AND SCHOLARSHIP 

It is a strange thing that although there have been 
written, within the last twenty-five years, more books 
on education, mental, moral and physical, than per- 
haps in all the 3"ears before, scarcely anything has 
been written on Conversation as an educational fac- 
tor. And yet, as the writer proposes to show, no 
agency is more powerful in the development of the 
mind, in the gaining of culture, in the formation of 
character, in the creation of ideas, in the inspiration 
of literary workers, and in the achieving of profes- 
sional and social success, than this little-prized intel- 
lectual exercise. 

Some writers, indeed, have not only failed to see 
the importance of conversation as a factor in educa- 
tion, but have coolly spoken of it as a "lost art," with- 
out any regret whatever at the "loss." Their idea of 
education is mastering problems in mathematics, 
learning languages, and studying grammar, rhetoric 
and history. The study of these subjects is of course 
cultivating and beneficial ; but the study of books for 
a specific purpose never yet formed the mind of any 
man. Books are dead things compared with the liv- 
ing speech of men and women. The inner being, the 



/ 



X Introduction 

mind and heart, are nearly always shaped by intimate 
and familiar conversation, which, springing spon- 
taneously and naturally among friends and acquaint- 
ances, operates unconsciously in forming the charac- 
ter, in inspiring thought, in shaping one's aims and 
ambitions, and in creating a desire for intellectual 
expansion. Now this is the highest kind of education ; 
it goes deeper, makes a more permanent impression, 
develops the mind more surely, than books ever do. 
If this be a "lost art" — and in some circles it cer- 
tainly is — then the sooner it is recovered and restored, 
the better. 
The great ages in the world's history, the intellectual 
\ ages, are those in which conversation was most highly 
prized and assiduously cultivated. Every scholar 
knows that the age of Pericles, when Aspasia formed 
that brilliant circle which included Socrates and his 
friends, when the plays of ^schylus, Sophocles and 
Euripides were being put on the stage, and Phidias 
was chiselling his immortal works in the Parthenon, 
was unmatched for conversation. The age of Queen 
Elisabeth, that of Queen Anne, and that of Louis XIV. 
are distinguished as ages of conversation, and con- 
sequently of high culture and great literary ac- 
tivity. In fact, the age of Elisabeth, the greatest 
in literature, is generally spoken of as "the age of 

(conversation" — the first, perhaps, in which people met 
expressly for conversation — for who has forgotten 
the gatherings at the Mermaid, where Shakespeare 



/ 



Introduction xi 

and Ben Jonson had tlicir "wit combats," and among 
whose members were Raleigh, Beaumont and 
Fletcher, John Selden and several other famous men? 
Of the talk of these men it has been said that when 
they departed they "left an air behind them which alone 
was able to make the next two companies right witty." 
The age of Queen Anne, when Swift, Addison, Pope 
and Steele lived, is famous for the clubs and conversa- 
tion of the time ; and as for the age of Louis XIV., 
when Racine, Moliere, Corneille, Madame de Sevigne 
and a host of other celebrated people lived, it is well 
known that this age of fine conversationists and 
eminent writers is the most distinguished in the 
annals of France. And in our ow^n American history, 
what period excels in intellectual activity, in great 
writers — poets, novelists, philosophers and orators — 
that in which those famous conversers, Bronson Al- 
cott, Margaret Fuller, Henry Thoreau, Ralph Waldo 
Emerson, and the Channings lived? Was not this a 
period when men and women lived who, by their con- 
versations, stirred and filled the minds of their con- 
temporaries with new ideas, high thoughts, noble con- 
ceptions, and philosophic theories, such as were never 
heard before? Was it not a time of intense intel- 
lectual activity? 

Those were the times, ancient and modem, when in- 
tellectual fires burned brightly, when noble minds were 
forging new and grand conceptions into masterpieces 
of art and literature, which have fed the world ever 



xii Introduction 

since, and when the things of the mind were more 
highly esteemed and carefully studied than those of 
the body. Conversation is indeed the greatest of all 
sources of inspiration, the most stirring and impres- 
sive of all influences, and thousands of people owe all 
their success in life to their power of grasping new 
conceptions or new suggestions thrown out in con- 
versation. 

The great teachers of modern times, too — those men 
who became masters in their art, like Arnold of Rug- 
by, Thring of Uppingham, and Horace Mann of 
Massachusetts — were men who knew the value of con- 
versation as an educational factor; men who, by 
familiar talks with their teachers and scholars, im- 
pressed new and vital truths on their minds, and in- 
spired them to high thinking and noble living. The 
conversation of these men formed a protest against 
the rule-mongering, machine-teaching of their time, 
and it was they who introduced those new views and 
better methods in the art of teaching which, though 
old as the time of Socrates, have since been called the 
"new education." 

Mr. Thring's definition of education — "the transmis- 
sion of life from the living, through the living, to the 
living," is perhaps the best possible definition of true 
conversation. "Tutors," said Mr. Buckle, the his- 
torian of civilisation, "generally teach too much 
from books and too little by word of mouth; hence 
the tendency is to overwork children ; hence the great 



Introduction xiii 

proportion of weak-minded adults. I teach these boys 
in conversation," said he, speaking of the sons of his 
friend, Mr. Huth, "in a quarter of an hour more than 
they would otherwise learn in a week." 

It must be borne in mind that culture and scholarship 
are two distinct things, and that the one does not 
necessarily include the other. A man may be a pro- 
found scholar with very little culture; or he may be 
a highly cultured man with very little scholarship. A 
man of culture must be a man of the world, accus- 
tomed to mingle in good society, and familiar with 
good literature. A profound scholar may be a man 
apart from the world, a closet student, a recluse, un- 
accustomed to society, not caring for it. Such a man, 
with all his knowledge, may be awkward and uncouth 
in manner, shy and oppressed in the presence of 
strangers, and unable to express himself with any 
degree of force or fluency in conversation. The man 
of culture is at home in any society, is universally 
esteemed, and nearly always successful ; while the mere 
scholar, devoid of culture, is seldom much esteemed 
and rarely quite successful. High culture and pro- 
found scholarship are indeed sometimes combined in 
the same person ; and where this is found, perfection 
is nearly attained. But how few are the examples 
of such perfection ! 

At the present day, too much stress is laid upon 
scholarship and too little upon culture; too much 
upon knowledge derived from books and too little 



xiv Introduction 

upon knowledge derived from intercourse with the 
world; so that conversation as a means of culture is 
hardly ever thought of, while scholarship or book- 
study is over prized and over done. The latter may 
fill the mind, but it does not necessarily form either 
the head or the heart. 

In the best circles of Europe, the value of conversa- 
tion, not only as a means of recreation but of education 
as well, has long been known and appreciated. Most 
Europeans of the better class cultivate and practise 
conversation much more than Americans do. They 
look upon it as a means of polish and refinement ; as 
an accomplishment more necessary than book-learn- 
ing; as the means of perfection in culture. So that 
the art of conversation forms a more important 
branch of education among them than it does with us. 
They regard it as one of the chief things in the forma- 
tion of character, in the making of a lady or a gentle- 
man, and as the crowning achievement in social inter- 
course. They find leisure for it, time to cultivate it, 
and inclination to practise it; in fact, they would 
hardly think life worth living without acquiring some 
skill and power in the delightful art of conversation. 

In America, we are so intent on work, on rapidity 
and despatch in business, on post-haste in all our af- 
fairs, so impressed with the idea that "time is money,'* 
that we can hardly afford to spend any of it in mere 
conversation. Even in social, as well as in business 
circles, conversation has become among us as much of 



Inti^oduction xv 

a "lost art" as letter-writing is said to be, which is, in 
reality, when properly practised, a species of con- 
versation. 

In this book the writer endeavours to show, first, how 
much may be learned and how much pleasure and 
profit may be derived by listening to and partaking 
in conversation with cultivated people ; and, secondly, 
how a fairly intelligent man or woman may become 
a good converser and an entertaining companion 
by conversing with people of good sense ; and, 
as correlated and incidental to these two important 
points, the writer tries to point out what an important 
factor conversation forms in creating and suggesting 
new ideas, and how ability to keep one's end up in 
conversation is of value to any one, even in a purely 
business or professional point of view, by enabling 
him to make and strengthen business relations, and, if 
so inclined, in impressing his personality upon others, 
and thus advancing his political or professional for- 
tunes. 

That these are not purely pedantic and pedagogic 
ideas is shown by numerous examples from the expe- 
rience of good conversers in various walks of life, 
whose conversational powers aided them materially 
in achieving the success or the eminence they attained 
in their profession or in their aims and objects in life. 

This, therefore, is the aim of the present writer: to 
show by precept and example what a mighty factor 
in education and culture the practice of conversation 



xvi Introduction 

may be made ; and to point out to the teacher and the 
student, the professional man and the merchant, the 
literary aspirant and the budding statesman, what 
golden opportunities for culture, for knowledge and 
wisdom, for a successful and beneficent career, lie 
within his grasp ; and to indicate to all others what 
crowning advantages may be gained by this little- 
thought-of and little-cared-f or practice of sincere and 
frank outpouring of the mind in familiar conversa- 
tion, not only with well-educated people, but with men 
and women of all ranks and classes. 

Sure, He that made us with such large discourse, 
Looking before and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To fust in us unused.* — Shakespeare. 

* Recently an awakening seems to have taken place among 
educators on this subject. President Woodrow Wilson of 
Princeton University has appointed a considerable number 
of preceptors and tutors, whose duty it is to instruct and in- 
form the new students separately in familiar conversation, and 
aid them in all that they can do. "This," says President Wilson, 
"wiU be less burdensome to both teacher and pupil, more nor- 
mal, less like a body of tasks, and more like a natural enjoy- 
ment of science and letters." 

And Mr. Charles Francis Adams has lately made nearly the 
same contention. "Could I have my way," he said in an ad- 
dress before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Columbia Uni- 
versity (June, 1906), "I would break our traditional academic 
system into fragments, as something which has long since done 
its work, and is now quite outgrown. I would get back to the 
close contact of mind on mind, and do away with this arm's 
length lecture system. I would develop an elective system 
based on scientific principles and the study of the individual.'* 



PART 1 



EDUCATIONAL AND LITERARY INFLUENCES OF CON- 
VERSATION 



"Literature is the expression of the thoughts of so- 
ciety. Books are specimens of the conversations of 
an age, preserved in the spirit of taste and of 
genius." — Thomas Henry Huxley. 

"Of all the arts which make existence desirable, the 
art of graceful and delightful conversation is the 
chief." — Correspondent N. Y. Sun. 



CHAPTER I 

WHAT MAY BE GAINED BY CONVERSATION 

** What we do not call education is often more precious 
than that which we call such." — Emerson. 

Few persons have any adequate conception of the 
measureless influence of famihar conversation on 
young minds. For good or ill, this is the one thing, 
above all others, that forms the minds and moulds the 
hearts of young people. For it is well known that in 
youth the mind is as wax to receive impressions and as 
steel to retain them. Young men at college, and even 
children at school, are more profoundly influenced by 
the familiar talk of their classmates than by the lec- 
tures or lessons of their teachers. This is why some 
wise men send their sons to a school or college where 
they know the influences of their associates are good, 
and from which they expect more than from their pro- 
fessors. "You send your boy to the schoolmaster," 
says Emerson, "but it is the schoolboys who educate 
him." His school companions come closer to him, 
speak their minds more freely, use plainer and simpler 
language, appeal to him more directly, than his 
teachers or professors ; and the fact that each one par- 
ticipates in the talk has much to do with its interest 
and influence. 



4 Culture by Conversation 

"Why is it," says Sam Slick, "that if you read to a 
man, you put him to sleep? Because it's a book, and 
the language ain't common. Why is it, if you talk to 
him, he will sit up all night with you? Because it's 
talk, the language of nature." 

Most people look upon conversation as a thing of 
course, of no particular importance, scarcely deserv- 
ing of any particular attention ; whereas it is the one 
thing that deserves the most careful attention. Some 
one has remarked that he could not understand how 
James Russell Lowell, who was not noted for hard 
study at college, should have acquired such an im- 
mense stock of knowledge and such a marvellous power 
of expression as he subsequently displayed, not only 
in his writings, but in his conversation and speeches. 
The remark was natural enough, but the gentleman 
who made it seems to have been unaware or to have 
forgotten that Mr. Lowell belonged to a family which 
had for generations been noted for culture. He 
doubtless learned more and was more profoundly im- 
pressed by the conversation of his friends and kins- 
folk than he could have been by his teachers or college 
professors. Even Daniel Webster declared that in his 
education, conversation had done more for him than 
books had ever done; and that he had learned more 
from the writers of books in conversations with them 
than he could possibly have learned from their writ- 
ings. "Their minds in conversation," said he, "came 
into intimate contact with my own, and I absorbed cer- 



What May be Gained by Conversation 5 

tain secrets of their power, whatever might be its qual- 
ity, which I could not have detected in their books." 

And this, mind you, was said by a man familiar with 
the best literature of his time. How much did Shakes- 
peare owe to a college education? How much did 
Moliere? Or Robert Burns? Or John Bunyan? Or 
Patrick Henry? Or Henry Clay? These men, as 
shown in their lives, owed more to conversation than 
to any other means of culture. It was such men that 
Robert Ingersoll had in mind when he said that "a 
college is a place that dims diamonds and polishes 
pebbles." Everything depends, however, on the char- 
acter of the college in which one studies ; for a college 
professor may have a thorough knowledge of mathe- 
matics, or Greek and Latin, and yet have very little 
inspiration or intellectual life about him; while in 
every-day life we frequently meet with people with- 
out much learning who are brimming over with new 
ideas and inspiring thoughts. Many professors and 
schoolmasters, after acquiring a certain skill in their 
profession and a certain quantum of knowledge, stop 
there, having reached the acme of their ambition. 

Look into the lives of those men and women who 
have attained eminence in some art or profession — 
the only lives of which we have any adequate record — 
and you will almost invariably find that the course 
their minds took, the professions they followed, and 
the motives that animated them through life, sprang 
from the conversation of some intelligent companion, 



6 Culture by Conversation 

of some able thinker or speaker, among their early 
associates. We may see this frequently exemplified, 
too, in our best works of fiction. 

No man who cares at all for intellectual development 
can afford to live in seclusion. He must, if he will 
not become a fossil, keep in touch with the bright men 
and women of his environment, and go forward with 
them in the progressive ideas of his time. Isolation 
leads to f ossilisation ; disuse to decay; for those 
powers left unused become finally, like the eyes of the 
fish in cavernous rivers, lost altogether. Conversation 
makes a man acquainted not only with the powers of 
others, but with his own, and with human nature gen- 
erally. Robert Burns declared he never knew his own 
powers until he had measured them with those of 
others ; and Moliere said that when he had got Into 
the Hotel de Rambouillet — a brilliant Court coterie of 
the day — he no longer needed to study classic au- 
thors; he had an abundance of real comedies and 
tragedies before his eyes, and needed no other material 
for his comedies. 

What we learn by conversation Is more than we our- 
selves are aware of. Let a reporter come and have a 
talk with you, and let him print it, and you will be 
astonished at the quantity of printed matter it makes. 
One can tell more in five minutes than one can write 
In an hour; and one can often, in a ten-minute talk 
with a friend, get the sum and substance of a ten- 
column article in the newspapers. I remember hear- 



What May he Gained by Conversation 7 

ing the whole of the celebrated Tichborne case, which 
filled many columns in the newspapers of the time, 
narrated to me so completely in a few minutes that I 
felt, on reading about it the next day, as if I were 
reading an old story. 

"Society," says Oliver Wendell Holmes, "is a strong 
solution of books. It draws the virtue out of what is 
best worth reading, as hot water draws the strength 
of leaves." So that if you have a considerable ac- 
quaintance among intelligent reading people, you may 
learn much of that which is worth knowing in books 
without the trouble of reading them. Even of good 
books, no man attempts to read all; for the main 
things are contained in the few. Coleridge used to 
say that he could count on his fingers the books that 
are really worth reading. Of course this is an exag- 
geration, reminding one of the remark of a well- 
known society leader who declared that good society 
could be reduced to "four hundred." But there is a 
certain degree of truth in it. It is not necessary to 
read even the "one hundred best books" to be a well- 
informed man. 

The thoughts of the world, of all literature, are run- 
ning through the heads of the people you meet. Some 
men have a way of putting things that gives you a 
whole history in a few words. "Clever people," says 
Goethe, "are the best encyclopaedias." What you 
have to do, when you talk with them, is to learn to 
draw them out. You can, if you are an adept in this 



8 Culture by Conversation 

way, learn more, and get more fresh thought in con- 
versation, than if you should read forty columns a 
day. Lord Palmerston declared, at a dinner in Paris, 
that he never read a printed book. How did he get 
his information? He got it all from the people he 
talked with and the documents he read. The great 
English premier, Gladstone, was noted for his ability 
to "pump people dry" of all they knew of the subjects 
they were familiar with. Socrates said that "a wise 
questioning is the half of knowledge." 

And what you learn by conversation does not fatigue 
you as reading does; for you get tired of reading, 
but rarely of conversation. Men generally talk of 
what is uppermost in their minds. They are eager to 
tell you about some remarkable experience they have 
had, or some remarkable book or story they have 
read. And most men, when fairly dealt with, are 
ready for an exchange of wares. Nearly every one 
reads some special kind of books or periodicals. I 
have never known but one man in the course of a life- 
time who had read the same books I had. And yet 
even from him I continually learned something new, 
because he had drawn from the same books quite a dif- 
ferent nutriment from that which I had. He had, 
moreover, one quality in which I was deficient, the 
power of stating in a few words the substance of any 
book he had read. He had the knack of "tearing out 
the heart of a book" and laying it before you. Some- 
times one gets in a single sentence a characterisation 



TThat May be Gained by Conversation 9 

of a whole book, or a whole convention of people. 
When a gentleman who had attended a dentist's con- 
vention was asked what he had learned there, he re- 
plied : "Well, of one thing I became firmly convinced, 
which is, that nearly all the ills that flesh is heir to 
come from neglect of the teeth !" 

Sometimes in a single sentence one gets an excellent 
suggestion for a whole discourse. A clergyman who 
was passing through a village, in which were several 
of his parishioners, happened to speak to one, a 
woman, who was bleaching linen on the grass. Among 
other things he asked if she were at church last Sun- 
day. "Oh, yes." "Do you remember the text?" 
"No." "Do you remember any of the points of the 
sermon?" She could not recall any of them. "Then 
what good did the discourse do you?" asked the 
clergyman. "Ah, doctor," she replied, "do you see 
that linen on the green? It does not look very well 
now ; but by watering it from time to time it finally 
becomes white as snow !" He departed, feeling that he 
had got a lesson from that woman better than any he 
had taught her. 

Coleridge says that "a good reader is like a worker in 
diamond mines ; he casts aside all that is worthless, and 
retains only pure gems." My friend, above men- 
tioned, was one of these diamond workers ; he could 
give you the pure ore of any book in half an hour's 
talk. 

For many books are nothing but the amplification 



10 Culture by Conversation 

and exposition of a single idea. Where this is the case, 
a statement of its contents is comparatively easy. I 
heard a gentleman lately give, in two sentences, the 
sum and substance of Mr. Henry George's famous 
"Progress and Poverty." "You know," said he, 
"that nearly all the coal-producing land in Pennsyl- 
vania is owned by a dozen men, who, in order to keep 
up the price of coal, allow only a limited quantity 
to be dug out every year, and they will not sell an 
land.? Why, about seventeen cents an acre; that is 
utilised. What do you suppose is the tax on this 
land.'* Why, about seventeen cents an acre; that is 
all. Now, clap on this land, say $10 or $20 an acre, 
and you will compel them to sell part of it to others, 
who will mine it, and thus reduce, perhaps by one- 
half, the price of coal ; and when the labouring man 
pays half as much as he now pays for fuel, are not 
his wages increased.''" 

I think it may be safely affirmed that any article or 
essay, speech, or address, whose contents will not lend 
itself to a condensed verbal statement, or of which 
one cannot grasp its leading thoughts so as to state 
them in a few words, is of no great value. It is one 
of those plants that have more leaves than fruit. 

Take, for instance, Herbert Spencer's "Essays on 
Education," a work of great value. You would think 
it difficult to state in a few words the substance of 
these essays ; but it is not. The essence of the whole 
book lies in the statement that we devote too much 



What May he Gained by Conversation 11 

time to the study of the ancient languages and litera- 
ture, and too little to modern languages and scientific 
knowledge; too much time to dead grammatical 
forms, and too little to living scientific truths. These 
truths are illustrated, exemplified, and amplified in a 
hundred ways; so that the reader is profoundly im- 
pressed with them. 

Take, again, Ignatius Donnelly's vast "Crypto- 
gram," which contains over one thousand closely 
printed octavo pages, and which was heralded as the 
great revolution-making book of our times. This 
huge book is but the amplification of this one idea, 
that as we have no record whatever of Shakespeare's 
having received any school education, and as the plays 
attributed to him abound with evidences that the writer 
was a highly educated man, Shakespeare could not 
have written said plays ; and that as many of the 
expressions and thoughts found in these plays are 
found also in the writings of his contemporary, Lord 
Bacon, who was a highly educated man, said Bacon 
must have written these plays. And to confirm this 
theory, a cipher is invented to suit the theory. This 
is positively all there is in that huge volume. How 
much time, trouble, and temper I might have saved 
had I learned all this from my book-condensing 
friend ! 

It is a good thing to have great readers among your 
friends, not only on account of the interesting things 
they may tell you, but also because they draw your 



12 Culture by Conversation 

attention to the best books they have read, of which 
you would probably never otherwise have heard. At 
a time when so much poor stuff is printed, such in- 
formation is exceedingly valuable. The press is now 
a Niagara, pouring forth vast streams of printed 
matter, most of which gradually finds its way back 
into the paper-mill, but the contents of which may 
generally be discovered in conversation with different 
classes of people. 

Upon book reviewers one cannot always rely. Their 
reviews are often mere advertising puffs, and at best 
are very often unsatisfactory statements of the con- 
tents of a book. The reviewer frequently does not 
read through the book he reviews. He has so many 
books to review, he cannot do it. Who can blame 
him? When an editor gets a pile of new books on 
his desk, he is apt to dispose of them all in short 
order, half a dozen lines apiece. I have known this 
to be the case in several instances, even in widely cir- 
culated daily papers. And I have known the pro- 
prietor of a paper come to his literary critic and 
say: "I want you either to damn a book or praise it 
sky-high." "But that is not criticism, sir." "Well, 
never mind; that is what pays, and that is what I 
want." 



CHAPTER II 

SOME EXAMPLES OF THE INFLUENCE OF CONVERSATION 

"What a man says, be it true or false, has often 
more influence upon the lives, and especially upon the 
destiny, of those to whom he speaks, than what he 
does." — Hugo, 

"In youth," says Walter Bagehot, "the real plastic 
energy is not in tutors or lectures, nor in books 'got 
up,' but in what all talk of because all are interested ; 
in the argumentative walk and disputatious lounge; 
in the impact of young thought on young thought; 
of fresh thought on fresh thought; of hot thought 
on hot thought ; in mirth and refutation ; in ridicule 
and laughter; for these are the free play of the 
natural mind."* 

* Probably no more striking example of the truth of this state- 
ment can be furnished than that shown by the twelve young men, 
called the "Cambridge Apostles," who, after graduating from 
Cambridge, met once a week for conversation and a supper, 
where they discussed freely some living topic of the day or read 
and discussed a paper written by one of them. Here they con- 
versed freely, and here they spoke, both oratorically and con- 
versationally, on the question in hand ; and here they brought 
into play what they had learned in college or thought out in life; 
here they acquired that fluent, eloquent, and forcible power of 
expression which afterwards distinguished them. Just look at 
their names : Brookfield, Blakesley, Duller, Hallam, Kemble, 



14 Culture by Conversation 

What is told us, especially in youth, sticks; it is 
impressed on the mind in a hundred ways — voice, 
tone, look, action, all speak together; while that 
which we read, or even that which is read to us, enters 
the mind only through the eye or the ear, and leaves 
but a comparatively faint impression. The language 
of conversation, being simpler and more natural than 
that of composition, is more easily comprehended, and 
carries the thought more readily into the mind. This 
is why Dr. Johnson's talk, as reported by Boswell, is 
so much more read and appreciated than any of his 
writings. He talked plain Saxon English, whereas 
he wrote in a highly Latinised style, which few but the 
learned care now to read. And this is why a spoken 
speech is a hundred times more effective than one that 
is read. 

The great German poet, Goethe, had many bright 
and interesting companions in his youth ; but he him- 
self confesses that it was in his talks with a few of 

Lushington, Maurice, Milnes, Spedding, Sterling, Tennyson, 
Trench, Venables. To show what they owed to this * ' Con versatione 
Society " (for so they first called themselves), one of them, 
Richard Chenevix Trench, declared, " I should look back upon 
my Cambridge career with mingled regret for wasted time, were 
it not for the friendships I have formed and the opinions I have 
imbibed (but for these I owe the University nothing) ; and among 
these connections I look upon none with greater pleasure than 
my election to the Cambridge Apostles, and trust that it will 
prove a connection not to be dissolved with many of the mem- 
bers during life." Quoted by Mrs. Brookfield in the "Cambridge 
Apostles.'* 



The Influence of Conversation 15 

those he knew at college, notably Merck and Lerse at 
Leipsic, Jung Stilling and Herder at Strasburg, and 
Jacobi at Pempelfort, that he was quickened into that 
intellectual life which made him what he was, a poet, 
novelist, and philosopher. So fond was he of talking 
with Jacobi that they were almost inseparable com- 
panions. He tells us himself that one evening, after 
they had talked late into the night, and had parted 
in order to sleep, they once more sought each other, 
and standing at the window, from which they could 
see the moonlight quivering on the throbbing breast 
of the Rhine, they continued their conversation long 
after midnight, and when they parted they did so 
with the feeling of an eternal union. 

Patrick Henry is known to have received in his 
youth but a mere smattering of knowledge, and yet he 
seems to have sprung at one bound into the forefront 
of the world's great orators. It has been a subject 
of wonder to many how this could be. But to one 
who studies his life, the mystery may easily be solved. 

Professor Moses Coit Tyler, the latest biographer 
of Patrick Henry, tells us that "from nearly all quar- 
ters the testimony is to this effect : that young Patrick 
was an indolent, dreamy, frolicsome creature, with a 
mortal antipathy to books, supplemented by a pas- 
sionate regard for fishing-rods and shotguns; dis- 
orderly in dress, slouching, vagrant, unambitious; a 
roamer in woods ; a loiterer on fishing-banks ; having 
more tastes and aspirations in common with the trap- 



16 Culture by Conversation 

pers and frontiersmen than with the toilers of civilised 
life; giving no hint nor token, by word or act, of 
the possession of any intellectual gifts that could 
raise him above mediocrity, or even lift him up to it." 

But now mark what the professor tells us a little 
farther on: "Through a long experience in off-hand 
talk with the men whom he had thus far chiefly known 
in his little provincial world, with an occasional 
clergyman, a pedagogue, or a legislator, with small 
planters and small traders, with sportsmen, loafers, 
slaves, and the drivers of slaves, and, more than all, 
with those bucolic solons of old Virginia, the good- 
humoured, illiterate, thriftless Caucasian consumers of 
whiskey and tobacco, who, cordially consenting that 
all the hard work of the world should be done by the 
children of Ham, were thus left free to commune to- 
gether in endless debate on the tavern porch, or on 
the shady side of the country store, — young Patrick 
had learned somewhat of the lawyer's art of putting 
things ; he could make men serious, could make them 
laugh, and could set fire to their enthusiasms. What 
more he could do with such gifts nobody seems to have 
guessed; very likely few gave it a thought at all." 

Will any one say that training of this kind could 
never have made him an orator? Of course, it had 
to be supplemented with reading and study; but if 
this training was not one that taught him to think, 
to speak, to reason, to argue, to reply, and one that 
stored his mind with moral, poHtical, and economic 



The Influence of Conversation 17 

truths, with a knowledge of human nature and the 
rights of man, then there is no explaining the genius 
of Patrick Henry. 

Books, the best of them, contain merely the experi- 
ence of the writers or that of other people, gained 
from conversation and from other books ; and Patrick 
Henry, having this at first hand, had it fresher and 
better than he could have had it from books. "Study 
men, not books," was his own advice in later years. 
He had learned from the people he conversed with 
more than he could have learned from any "hundred 
best books" that could have been selected for him. 

All that we know of Shakespeare points to his having 
received an education of a similar nature — an educa- 
tion quite as irregular and defective as that of Patrick 
Henry. In his life the great dramatist figured at 
various periods among poachers and players, tavern- 
haunters and deer-stealers, fishers and farmers, stable- 
boys and tapsters, gamekeepers and ploughmen, gen- 
tlemen and noblemen, poets and playwrights, whose 
life and conversation revealed to him a great deal 
more than books ever did. Of course, he had read all 
the best books he could lay his hands on; he was 
undoubtedly a great reader ; but he absorbed his in- 
finite knowledge of human nature by intimate contact 
with all classes of people. Like Patrick Henry, he 
had learned all about men, their thoughts and ways 
and aims, by talking with them ; and from this knowl- 
edge and practice, together with his reading, which 



18 Culture by Conversation 

consisted chiefly of great books, Shakespeare had 
acquired or evolved that all-embracing knowledge of 
human nature, that marvellous power of expression, 
that wonderful insight, that eloquence and power of 
dramatic presentation, which he subsequently dis- 
played so grandly in the maturity of his powers. So 
it was also with Patrick Henry. 

Charles James Fox was another great orator and 
statesman who had an irregular education. Fox is 
famous for his charming manners, his benevolent dis- 
position, his liberal political principles, his faith in the 
people, his masterful eloquence, and his defective 
"education." Sir Philip Francis, who knew him well, 
declares that "it is a great mistake to suppose that 
Fox was well educated ;" "the reverse," says he, "was 
the case;" and he affirms that he picked up what he 
knew chiefly by conversation with educated people. 
"He grew," says Sir Philip, "like a forest oak, by 
neglect!" What a striking figure! Like the young 
oak, he drew nourishment and strength from all the 
plants by which he was surrounded. 

Fox himself declared that he had learned more from 
the conversation of Edmund Burke than he had from 
all the books he had ever read. And it is said of him 
that when he entered Parliament he turned that 
august body into a debating club in order to perfect 
himself in the art of debate. But Fox had read more 
and was better educated than Sir Philip Francis gave 
him credit for. He could read Greek and Latin, and 



The Influence of Conversation 19 

in his college dixys must have studied a good many 
books. But it is well known that his father, who was 
fond of the society of able men, encouraged his son 
to shine in conversation, and in other social accom- 
plishments. And the fact remains, that Charles James 
Fox, the mighty orator and much-loved man, owed 
more to conversation, in his intellectual equipment, 
than to any other source of knowledge or power. 

Mind, I do not desire to disparage books or college 
training, but rather to show the value of conversation, 
from the practice of which so many men of ability 
have apparently drawn more intellectual nourishment 
than they ever drew from books or professors. "Not 
that I love Caesar less, but Rome more." 

Let me take one more striking example, that of a 
man who resembled Fox in many respects, and whose 
name is dear to every American — I refer to that ad- 
mirable man and famous orator, Henry Clay, who 
was a charming converser as well as an eloquent 
orator. 

Young Clay lost his father at a very early age, and 
when he had got but a slight knowledge of the three 
R's he was placed as a boy behind the counter in a 
retail store, where he remained for one year. After 
this he got a place in the law office of Peter Tinsley, 
not as a clerk, but as a sort of supernumerary, to do 
whatever he was called upon to do. But here, after 
a time, he learned to copy law documents, and when 
Chancellor Wythe wanted one of the clerks of the 



20 Culture by Conversation 

office to serve him as an amanuensis, he picked out this 
lad, who is described as "a raw-boned, lank, awkward 
youth, with a countenance by no means handsome, but 
not unpleasing." I am sure the Chancellor saw some- 
thing in that countenance that indicated a superior 
mind. Young Clay is further described as "wearing 
garments of grey Virginia cloth, home-made and ill- 
fitting," and his companions are said to have "tittered 
at his uncouth appearance and his blushing con- 
fusion" when the Chancellor selected him. But I 
must let the late Carl Schurz, his biographer, tell the 
story in his own words : 

Young Clay began to attract the attention of per- 
sons of superior merit. George Wythe, Chancellor 
of the High Court of Chancery, who had often had 
occasion to visit Peter Tinsley's office, noticed the new- 
comer, and selected him from among the employees 
there to act as an amanuensis in writing out and re- 
cording the decisions of the Court. This became 
young Clay's occupation for four years, during which 
time his intercourse with the learned and venerable 
judge grew constantly more intimate and elevating. 
As he had to write much from the Chancellor's dicta- 
tion, the subject matter of his writing (which was at 
first a profound mystery to him) became gradually a 
matter of intellectual interest. The Chancellor, 
whose friendly feeling for the bright youth grew 
warmer as their relations became more confidential, 
began to direct his reading; at first turning him to 
grammatical studies (of which the Chancellor saw, 
no doubt, that he was in great need), and then grad- 
ually opening to him a wider range of legal and his- 



The Influence of Conversation 21 

torical literature. But — what was equally if not more 
important — in the pauses of their work and in hours 
of leisure, the Chancellor conversed with his young 
secretary upon grave subjects, and thus did much to 
direct his thoughts and to form his principles. Henry 
Clay could not have found a wiser and nobler mentor ; 
for George Wythe was one of the most honourably 
distinguished men of a period abounding in great 
names ; and his conversation with his young secretary 
had undoubtedly been in a high degree instructive and 
morally elevating to him. 

Had Mr. Schurz said "the means under Providence 
of making Clay the man he became," he would have 
come nearer the truth. Thus was the character and 
career of Henry Clay formed and fixed ; thus was he 
directed, through the conversation of this able man, to 
the study of good literature and the mastering of 
those great principles of jurisprudence and constitu- 
tional law which he afterwards turned to such good 
account, and to the upholding of which his whole 
life was subsequently devoted. 

It is generally those who have mingled much among 
men, like Clay and Fox, who have acquired that en- 
viable power of making friends, of charming and at- 
taching all who come within their influence, for which 
these men were noted. Most great statesmen have 
been merely admired and esteemed; few have been 
loved as Clay and Fox were. These men had learned 
to become easy and familiar with people of all ranks — 
in short, with the people. When an elector told Fox, 



22 Culture by Conversation 

on one occasion, that he would rather vote for the 
devil than for him, the great statesman quietly re- 
plied, "Well, if your friend, the devil, doesn't run, 
may I count upon your vote?" and won his good will 
at once. When Henry Clay came among a party of 
sharpshooters firing at a target, they all cried, "Here 
comes Harry Clay; let him take a shot." He did 
so ; and when his shot fortunately hit the bull's-eye, 
they cried, "A chance shot ! a chance shot ! Try again, 
Mr. Clay." 

"No, siree !" cried he ; "beat that first, and then I'll 
try again." That shot and his ready wit had made 
him more friends than twenty speeches would have 
made for him. "One touch of nature makes the whole 
world kin." Constant intercourse with the world gave 
these two great political leaders that omnipotent tact, 
that winning address, which commands immediate at- 
tention where mere learning would discourse in vain. 
Of both Fox and Clay it may be said that they were 
educated in the school of "brilliant conversers and 
great books." 

This, too, was one of the sources of the extensive 
knowledge and fine culture possessed by that famous 
old lawyer and statesman, John Selden, who, when he 
had come to the Inner Temple in London, found there 
(to quote the words of an old chronicler) that "it 
was the constant and almost daily habit of these 
traders in learning to bring their acquisitions in a 
common stock by natural communication (that is, by 



The Influence of Conversation 23 

conversation) ; whereby each of them became, in a 
great measure, the participant and common possessor 
of each other's learning and knowledge." Such were 
the great lawyers of those days ; such was one of the 
ways in which they had acquired that wide knowledge 
and fine culture for which they are noted. And 
Selden himself became such an interesting and in- 
structive talker that his table-talk was considered 
worthy of being taken down, and after three centuries 
it is still read and admired by students and scholars. 



CHAPTER III 

WHAT SOME MEN HAVE ACCOMPLISHED BY CON- 
VERSATION 

"A man was not made to shut up his mind in itself, 
but to give it voice and to exchange it for other 
minds." — Charming. 

There is scarcely any sphere in life in which con- 
versational power may not become of incalculable 
value. It is, in fact, the ladder by which the mer- 
chant, the lawyer, the physician, the clergyman, the 
politician gains the confidence of his fellow-men and 
attains the ends he aims at. The man of mere learn- 
ing is of small account compared to the man who 
talks well; for such a man can, like the "Ancient 
Mariner," cast a spell on his hearer and compel him 

To listen like a three years' child. 

Like every other art, however, the art of conversa- 
tion must be founded on knowledge and good sense. 
Some men have learned the art so well, they never 
speak five minutes to a stranger without making a 
friend of him; while others, who have never learned 
or cared to learn anything about it, hardly ever open 
their lips without making an enemy. The latter 
never amount to anything, while the former generally 



IVhat Some Men Have Accomplished 25 

attain everything they desire. Some, like Henry 
Clay, have the power of turning an enemy into a 
friend the moment they talk with him; while others 
only increase the enmity as soon as they open their 
lips. One of Mr. Clay's opponents absolutely refused 
to be introduced to him for fear he would become so 
fascinated by his conversation that he would be con- 
verted to his views, and thus be unable to oppose him 
in debate. 

Let us take one or two examples in different spheres 
of life. A party of gentlemen came one day into a 
manufacturing establishment in Philadelphia, and, 
the proprietor being absent, one of his employees re- 
ceived them. This gentleman talked with the strangers 
in such a pleasant, amiable, entertaining way, that 
they were charmed with the man as well as with his 
wares ; and at the close of the interview a card was 
handed to him with the request that he would call on 
the gentlemen in the evening.. The visitors, who were 
a party of gentlemen sent out by the Emperor of 
Russia to acquaint themselves with the manufacture 
of machinery in America, made an offer to the young 
man to return with them to Russia, which he accepted ; 
and it was not long before his courtesy and capacity 
gained him both fame and fortune in that far-off 
country. 

When everybody else failed to draw a single copper 
from a wealthy man for a charitable object. Miss 
Dorothy Dix succeeded, by her pleasant manner and 



26 Culture by Conversation 

persuasive speech, in inducing him to contribute not 
only thousands of dollars, but the very house in 
which he lived, to the cause which she advocated. She 
had attained by her conversation what the famous 
preacher Whitfield had attained by his eloquent dis- 
courses — power over the purse-strings as well as over 
the hearts of men. Eloquence in the pulpit is only a 
step higher than eloquence in the parlour. A good 
talker will generally make a good orator ; for in order 
to gain his point in public discourse he needs only 
something of the practice before an audience that 
he has had daily before individuals. 

When Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, one of the most suc- 
cessful and highly esteemed educators of modern 
times, entered one of his classes, all the boys bright- 
ened up ; for they knew he would not only teach them 
something, but would converse with them in an inter- 
esting and cheering way. He knew how to reach the 
minds and hearts of 3'oung people; he knew how to 
touch their souls in a lively, piquant fashion, and in- 
spire them with a love of all that is noble and true; 
so that by his fascinating way of teaching he not 
only poured knowledge into their minds, but aroused 
enthusiasm for virtue and learning, for truth and 
humanity, and made each of them a friend of learn- 
ing as well as of their teacher for life. 

Such a man, too, was Professor Mark Hopkins of 
Williams College, of whom one of his most distin- 
guished pupils. President Garfield, said: "I could 



What Some Men Have Accomplished 27 

wish for no better college than to sit on one end of 
a slab-seat with Mark Hopkins on the other." And 
William Walter Phelps spoke of Garfield himself, who, 
it must be remembered, had been a teacher for years, 
as "a teacher so gifted that his students compared 
him with Arnold of Rugby." Garfield's speeches, 
like his conversations, are full of inspiring and inter- 
esting passages. He talked to his hearers. 

The greatest teacher of antiquity, the immortal 
Socrates, taught by conversation alone ; he led his 
pupils on, step after step, by adroit questioning, until 
he enabled them to see the truth of the proposition, or 
solve the problem under discussion, by their own ef- 
forts. By plain talk, with homely similes, he aroused 
their interest in knowledge and philosophy, showed 
them its value, and made it plain and interesting to 
men of ordinary capacity. 

But, indeed, a greater than Socrates taught the 
people in this way. The Divine Man chose this as 
the best possible method of teaching His world- 
redeeming doctrines ; and thus His talks, as reported 
by His disciples, have moved the world to a greater 
degree than the words of any other man that ever 
spoke. This is how the great Teacher gave true cul- 
ture to His disciples and His followers ; this is how 
He enabled men to speak and write so wonderfully 
well. No other or no higher testimony to the efficiency 
of the conversational method can or need be pre- 
sented. 



28 Culture by Conversation 

Indeed, we Americans are only beginning to find out 
that one of the best means of culture, as well as one 
of the richest sources of recreation, is afforded by 
familiar conversation, by interesting talk with experi- 
enced, cultivated people. What else is the meaning of 
the daily increasing club-life that is going on among 
us? Is it not the feeling that this is the most culti- 
vating and refreshing of all social and intellectual 
recreations? Here we find people with whom we can 
exchange views on things that interest us, with whom 
we can unburden our minds of things that puzzle us, 
as well as listen to those who wish to unburden theirs ; 
here we can discuss live questions with living people, 
and thus refresh our souls more completely than we 
can in any other way. 

Even the women are now having their clubs and or- 
ganisations for intellectual improvement. They see 
that they are going to "get left" if they do not keep 
up with the men in this respect. For how can the 
wife, confined to her narrow home duties, and seldom 
seeing anybody but her children and her servants, ex- 
pect to continue to be an attractive companion to her 
husband, who is every day conversing with people full 
of new ideas, new projects, and new departures, if 
she does not try to keep step with him? Seeing this, 
she wisely determines to make "Time give to her mind 
what he steals from her youth," and thus maintain 
her ascendency in her own sphere. With women, as 
with men, a wide acquaintance and a more extended 



What Some Men Have Accomplished 29 

sphere of action give them more to think of, more to 
be thankful for, and more to speak of, and this saves 
them from the narrowing influence of the routine and 
humdrum duties of housekeeping.* 

And now we see springing from Sorosis that remark- 
able combination called the Federation of Women's 
Clubs, and also the National Women's Congress ! 
What next? There is only one woman's club In all 
France ; but the women of America are not going to 
be behind the men In any respect. And in what other 
country are women so much respected as they are in 
America.? In what country have they so much influ- 
ence.'' They now vote In four States for all political 
officers and in several States for school officers; and 
they would be allowed to vote for all political officers 
and in all the States if they wanted to. They will 
probably do so some day. A chief justice of the 
Supreme Court (Brewster) has declared he "sees no 

*In a recent number of a New York paper the following 
paragraph appeared: 

"A careful inquiry into the literary organisations of Indiana 
shows that there are 108 women's clubs, 20 men's clubs, and 
45 clubs including both men and women in their membership. 
Some of these literary clubs maintained by women have records 
which are touching in what they reveal of toilsome struggling 
toward intellectual improvement. One of them is an organ- 
isation of farmers' wives, and its meetings are held at the dif- 
ferent farms of the members. It is often very difficult to 
attend, the women having sometimes to walk over three miles to 
the meetings. And Indiana roads in the winter — the leisure 
time of the farmer's wife — are not the most comfortable prom- 
enades in the world." 



30 Culture by Conversation 

reason why a woman should not be made President of 
the United States" ! When we recall the low and de- 
graded position of women in the pagan world and in 
the middle ages, we cannot help perceiving that their 
advancement and elevation socially are as great to- 
day as that attained by men politically. And yet 
there is much to be done, even in our own country, in 
improving the condition of women, especially in the 
factories of the Southern and Eastern States. God 
speed all noble efforts for the improvement and well- 
being of women ! For on them depend the well-being 
and moral advancement of the nation. The poet 
doubtless speaks truly when he says that "The hand 
that rocks the cradle rules the world," and assuredly 
the head that teaches our school-children determines 
the future of the nation. 



CHAPTER IV 

CONVERSATION AMONG DIFFERENT RACES 

"Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of 
Cathay." — Tennyson, 

I MUST repeat — that I would not discourage study, or 
belittle the value of reading and the knowledge de- 
rived from books. Far from it ; for these are the 
things that give food for conversation, and are 
among the best and surest means for developing the 
mind and gaining knowledge ; but I would set a higher 
value upon conversation than has generally been given 
to it. I would not care to learn anything if I could 
not repeat or teach it. All men know and value the 
benefits of reading; few know and appreciate the 
value or the benefits of conversation. For the book, 
compared with the speaker, is a dead thing — merely 
the picture of a landscape compared with the land- 
scape itself; and yet, strange to say, many persons 
prefer the picture to the reality ! 

There is, indeed, no question as to the fact that the 
most fertile source of ideas, outside of actual experi- 
ence, is the rich field of literature, and nothing can 
so enrich conversation as a large acquaintance with 
good literature. These two complete or complement 



32 Culture by Conversation 

each other; or, as the Eastern sage has so well ex- 
pressed it: "Reading is a rich source of knowledge; 
observation is still better; but conversation is the 
best of all." 

In Germany I was jauch pleased to find merchants 
and manufacturers, as well as students and teachers, 
taking a recess of two hours at noon, and after dinner 
leisurely chatting over their coffee and cigars about 
the affairs of the day, often about scientific, literary, 
and artistic matters, and thus promoting their health 
and longevity as well as their intellectual and spiritual 
well-being. Although they like to make money, as 
other people do, they do not sacrifice everything to 
this object; they try to enjoy life in all its fulness; 
give wide scope to the exercise of all their faculties; 
and prize social enjoyment, culture, and good man- 
ners, even above money-making ; and indeed they cer- 
tainly live in a larger and more pleasant world than 
most mere money-makers do. While the Germans 
read books — for more books are published in Germany 
than in any other country — our people seem to live 
almost entirely on the "weeds of literature" — ^mere 
periodical scraps. We publish more of these things — 
periodicals — than any other nation, and hence the 
superficial knowledge and poor thinking for which 
the mass is credited. 

The Germans claim, indeed, the possession and en- 
joyment of a quality little known among Americans, 
"Gemiithlichkeit," for which there is hardly an equiva- 



Conversation Among Different Races 33 

lent in the English language. Perhaps "familiar, 
easy, artless soul communion in conversation" comes 
nearest to it. But most people in America express 
the idea by "having a good time," which may be any- 
thing but "a feast of reason and flow of soul." 

The French are even fonder of conversation than 
the Germans, and in some circles it has become a fine 
art (not "a lost art") among them. In the Parisian 
salons the heaux esprits of the day come together for 
the luxury of talk, and some of them have become 
famous for their charm and power in this art. In- 
deed, the French cannot live without conversation ; for 
where society cannot be had, they pine and die. This 
is why the French people have never made any figure 
in the world as colonists ; they cannot live in isola- 
tion; they need society as much as plants need sun- 
shine. So that when a Frenchman leaves his native 
land, he always does so with the hope of returning 
some day to la belle France, where he can enjoy to 
the full the luxury of society and conversation. Vol- 
ney tells us that the emigres who came to America 
during the French Revolution — people who settled in 
Louisiana and cultivated the soil for a living — used 
to leave their occupation from time to time and walk 
or ride to the town to talk; and this town — New 
Orleans — was several hundred miles away! "Among 
all classes in France," says Madame de Stael, "the 
need of conversation is strongly felt; for speech is 
not simply here, as elsewhere, a means of communi- 



34 Culture by Conversation 

eating ideas, sentiments, and business affairs ; but 
an instrument on which the people love to play, which 
revives and animates their spirits, like music or strong 
liquors among other races, and which is necessary to 
their very existence." 

Sainte Beuve thus describes the conversation of the 
guests at Madame de Stael's country mansion at 
Coppet : 

The literary and philosophical conversations, always 
high-toned, clever and witty, began as early as eleven 
in the morning, when all met at breakfast; and were 
carried on again at dinner, and in the interval between 
dinner and supper, which was at eleven at night, and 
often as late as midnight. It was here at Coppet that 
Benjamin Constant showed to the greatest advantage, 
proving himself to be, as Madame de Stael has pro- 
claimed him, le 'premier esprit du monde, the greatest 
wit of the day. He was certainly the greatest of dis- 
tinguished men. Witnesses tell us that the sparkling 
brilliancy of their conversation in this chosen circle 
could not be surpassed; like a magic game of racket 
and ball, conversation was thrown from one to the 
other for hours without a single miss. 

On the other hand, the English, who are the greatest 
of colonisers, thrive in a wilderness, without a soul to 
speak to, except their own family. So that, although 
there are, of course, many fine talkers among them, 
the English as a people are not distinguished for their 
conversational powers. Being more self-contained 
than the French, they can live in communion with 



Conversation A mong Dijferent Races 35 

nature and their own thoughts, or with the thoughts 
of one or two of their great authors. Give an Eng- 
Hshman Shakespeare and the Bible, with liberty to 
think and speak as he pleases, and he cares nothing 
for the rest of the world. He can get along without 
society of any kind, and can live in a wilderness. If 
he has a family, that is enough for him. Sometimes, 
indeed, when other settlers come along, he begins to 
feel "crowded," and moves farther into the wilderness. 

Many of the English are so shy and reserved they 
cannot, like the French, flow out in talk. In fact, they 
are noted for shyness and taciturnity. So that while 
the Englishman is satisfied with his own family, the 
feeling of the Frenchman may be well illustrated by 
the story of the Parisian who, being very fond of the 
conversation of a married lady, visited her almost 
every evening ; but when her husband died, and it was 
suggested to him that he had now a chance to marry 
her, he exclaimed: 

"Yes, yes ; but where then should I spend my even- 
ings .'"' 

Probably nothing can illustrate the English shyness 
better than this story of Tennyson : "At a hospitable 
mansion Tennyson suddenly remarked to a lady who 
had been introduced to him earlier in the evening, 'I 
could not find anything to say to you before dinner, 
but now that I have had a bottle of port wine, I can 
talk as much as you please.' " He was not drunk — 
he had only ceased to be shy ! 



36 Culture by Conversation 

It is the same with the Scotch. "They need a little 
operating upon," says Sydney Smith, "to get their 
humour out" ; and he added, "And I know no better 
instrument for this purpose than the corkscrew!" 
Yes, the English are shy and reserved, while the 
Scotch are slow and thoughtful ; but the Irishman can 
always talk. The Scotchman's wit is said to come 
afterwards ; yet the Scotch and the English have both 
wit and humour, and some writers go so far as to call 
the English the wittiest people in Europe. Some 
Americans, like Thoreau, can enjoy solitude as much 
as the English; but these are rare. The majority of 
Americans crave social life as much as the French do. 
And yet I think there is this difference between the 
two : that while there is a strong tendency among the 
French, as also among Americans, toward city life, 
where conversation may be enjoyed in all its fulness, 
the Americans seek the city more for the sake of its 
amusements, and to enjoy an easier life, than for the 
sake of conversation. The French are equally fond 
of the amusements ; but they are still fonder of con- 
versation, which is the very breath of their nostrils. 

How often we hear of some prosperous American 
citizen who, charmed with a beautiful spot in the 
country, buys it, builds a beautiful home on it, and 
settles thereon ; but then, after a while, he gets tired 
of it, sells it at a sacrifice, and returns to the city 
which he had left so willingly ! What was the cause 
of his dissatisfaction.? The house, the country, all 



Conversation Among Different Races 37 

were beautiful; but he never counted on the loss of 
society; he never thought of the separation from 
friends and acquaintances ; and he found solitary life 
insupportable. The higher the culture, the more peo- 
ple draw together ; the more they think, the more they 
crave expression for their thoughts. 

Well, then, is this love of conversation and of asso- 
ciation in communities a virtuous or a vicious ten- 
dency? It is certainly, under proper restrictions, a 
virtuous tendency ; for it conduces to the enlarging 
of men's sympathies and the broadening of their 
views, to the increase of their knowledge of life and 
human nature, and the improvement of their own 
moral and intellectual powers. The gregarious tend- 
ency of mankind is as old as the race. It is not the 
societies and clubs that foster vice in the cities, but 
the Poverty Flats and the Mulberry Bends, where the 
want of light and sunshine, of space and air, of 
healthful homes and pleasant surroundings, breeds all 
that is evil. Bring light, room, and sunshine into 
these places, and the vermin will crawl out and dis- 
appear. 

Seclusion leads to selfishness and savagery; con- 
versation and social intercourse to benevolence, tolera- 
tion, and enlightenment. People in clubs and societies 
are constantly combining and contributing to some 
good cause, often a cause for which individuals can 
do little or nothing. To exchange views on the ques- 
tions of the day ; to express thought in familiar. 



38 Culture by Conversation 

every-day speech ; to hear about the "other half" as 
well as our own ; to hear about those whom we have 
once known and what they are doing — ^this is an innate 
craving of human nature, and leads to higher sym- 
pathies, more liberal views, greater interest in our 
fellow-beings, and a broader intellectual life than the 
hermit can possibly know. A love of nature is noble 
and highly to be commended ; but it is a remarkable 
fact that those who talk and write much about Nature, 
who paint pictures of her and write poems about her, 
generally live in cities ; while those who live with her 
all the time are generally hankering after the town. 
Though the poets and painters may love and adore 
Nature very much, and visit her occasionally, they 
are somewhat like the Frenchman who loved to call 
often on the married lady — they like to converse with 
her from time to time, but they do not care to be 
married to her! 



CHAPTER V 

CONVERSATION AS A GERMINATOR AND VEHICLE OF 

IDEAS 

"In conversation sparks are often emitted which, 
falling on kindling minds, create a blaze which as- 
tonishes the world." — Anon. 

Most people, excepting, perhaps, novel-readers, read 
for knowledge only; but they do not converse for 
knowledge; that comes of itself. In conversation, 
knowledge is rarely dug up or worked out, but simply 
given and taken freely, on both sides. For, unlike the 
exertion in reading, there is reciprocity in it, a re- 
ciprocal exchange of ideas ; whereas in reading there 
may be nothing but one-sidedness, "all crow and no 
turkey." Let me say, however, in passing, that it is 
good to read stories, even for the sake of amusement 
or diversion ; for such reading affords, like conversa- 
tion, rest and refreshment to the mind. There's where 
the novel comes in pleasantly, and often profitably; 
it amuses and entertains like pleasant conversation; 
and the best part of the novel is often the conversations 
in it. 

And here is another consideration. Many an author, 
through the conversation of the characters of his 
story, gives expression to thoughts and views which 



40 Culture by Conversation 

he would not dare to express under his own name. He 
makes conversation the vehicle for his daring or ag- 
gressive thoughts, the means of unburdening his mind 
of conceptions, hopes, and fears which he could hardly 
avow in any other way. Lord Beaconsfield did this in 
"Lothair" and other works of his. This is what gives 
such zest to fiction — ^the characters, which may be 
real persons, are unfettered in any way — ^they express 
their whole minds, and give utterance to all their 
thoughts and opinions, fears and aspirations. And 
one of these characters, generally the chief, is the 
author himself. Is not Wilhelm Meister Goethe him- 
self.? Is not the "Antiquary," Scott? "David Copper- 
field," Dickens.? "Childe Harold," Byron.? and so on. 
We know now that Micawber was Dickens's father, 
and Mrs. Micawber his mother, and that Sir Anthony 
Absolute in "The Rivals" was a portrait of Sheridan's 
father, and Captain Absolute of the author himself. 
And is it not exceedingly probable that the Prince in 
"Henry IV" was Shakespeare in his youth, and Ham- 
let the poet himself in mature years.? There's the 
point — through fiction, the conversation in fiction, 
men say what they think, and we get at their heart 
and soul and see what they really are. 

Nothing clarifies our ideas on any subject like sub- 
jecting them to the white heat of free discussion; 
nothing gives us so clear a knowledge of our own 
powers as measuring them with those of others. And 
sometimes we find that in endeavouring to receive light 



Gerviinator and Vehicle of Ideas 41 

we do so by the action of our own minds, and shed 
more light than we receive. Many a man has acquired 
clearer intellectual light on his own talents, gained 
more confidence in himself, by mixing among men and 
comparing himself with others, than in any other way. 
True conversation is always reciprocally beneficial. 
No matter how much you give, you are sure to receive 
something ; no matter how much you receive, you are 
sure to give something. The more you give, the more 
you have to give. Expression of thought makes it 
grow. As soon as you express one thought, a hundred 
others may start from it ; the avenues of the mind 
open at once to new views, to new perceptions of 
things ; fresh beams of light flash in on all sides, each 
beam enabling you to see things you never saw be- 
fore; so that, by a compensatory law in intellectual 
as in moral life, the giver is more blessed than the 
receiver. And far from impoverishing him, the more 
he distributes his wealth, the wealthier he becomes ; 
for he may say with Juliet : 

"The more I give to thee, 
The more I have." 

A new thought may to the thinker be simply a new 
thought and nothing more — a dead germ waiting for 
the contact of another thought to be warmed into life. 
By dropping it into the mind of another, it suddenly 
germinates and springs into life; it expands and 
grows into a new creation. As in all nature, even in 



42 Culture by Conversation 

the very brambles and bushes of the field, there is an 
affinity of sex, whose association and contact are 
necessary to the bringing forth of flower and fruit; 
so in the world of thought it appears as if, by a species 
of affinity, one thought links itself to another, and 
causes many others to spring from it. Thus on the 
wings of conversation the seeds and germs of new 
productions are constantly scattered, and the thoughts 
of one mind cause new thoughts to spring into being 
from contact with those of another. Every fresh 
utterance, like Shelley's "West Wind," 

Drives the dead thoughts over the universe. 
Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth. 

How often we hear of a new invention, a new poem, 
a new picture or romance springing from a single 
pregnant utterance in conversation ! Professor Drum- 
mond tells us that it was the simple talk of a friend 
to some plain folk in a Highland deer forest which 
suggested to him his book on the "Cardinal Principles 
of Christian Experience" ; and the author of the 
"Breadwinners" declared that his work sprang from 
the remark of a stranger uttered in the street. How 
many interesting subjects Lady Austen's conversation 
suggested to the poet Cowper ! Her talk, like that of 
many another bright woman, was a fountain of in- 
spiration to a poet, and but for her we should never 
have known "John Gilpin" or "The Task." 

Indeed, the most enjoyable conversations are those 



Germinator and Vehicle of Ideas 43 

between two persons, especially between two who have 
much in common, or at least some points of sympathy 
with each other. In such conversations there is more 
confidence than in a numerous and mixed company. 
Addison used to say, "There is no such thing as con- 
versation except between two persons;" and Walter 
Savage Landor, who abhorred nothing more than a 
mixed or large company, declared that "to dine in 
company with more than two was a Gaulish and Ger- 
man thing, clownish and odious in the extreme." 
Emerson says: "I find this law of one to one per- 
emptory for conversation, which is the practice and 
consummation of friendship. You shall have very 
useful and sheering discourse at several times with two 
several men; but let all three of you come together, 
and you shall not have one new and hearty word." 

This is because we seldom find two persons together 
with each of whom we are equally intimate, and can- 
not, therefore, speak with equal freedom to both. Is 
it not a common experience to find a man telling you 
things he would never tell to two or more persons? 
One is apt to speak in a large company more for 
effect than for edification ; more formally than 
frankly. I have known men who were admirable 
talkers, full of excellent thoughts, with one or two 
intimate friends ; but in a large company they would 
oppose every reasonable proposition, and weary every 
one but themselves with their cranky and absurd 
notions. 



44 Culture by Conversation 

I was lately in the company of half a dozen literary 
men and lawyers, where the conversation turned on 
trifles, fell into quips and quiddities, and finally be- 
came so flighty, fidgety, mocking, and crotchety, 
that it was simply torture to listen to them. With all 
together I had no conversation at all — they simply 
annihilated one another; and yet I knew that with 
any one of these men I might have had a very pleasant 
talk. The old saying, "Two is very good company; 
three none at all," is often literally true. 

With an intimate friend you can ask questions and 
state difficulties which you would not touch when sev- 
eral are present. This is how we get rid of unsound 
views, or become confirmed in sound ones. Sometimes 
we no sooner state a proposition than we perceive its 
untenableness. Mr. Bailey tells us that having 
adopted an opinion favourable to Berkeley's theory of 
vision, he never questioned it until he attempted to ex- 
plain it in conversation, when he perceived that the 
grounds on which it rested were not so conclusive as 
he had fancied; and further investigation convinced 
him of its erroneousness. Thus, while some theories 
will hardly bear a full statement in conversation, 
others become clearer and more convincing the oftener 
they are stated. 

Thought produces thought, and he who sits down to 
write a letter sometimes finds himself expanding into 
an essay or a history. Burke's famous "Reflections on 
the French Revolution" originated in a letter to a 



Gerviinator and Vehicle of Ideas 45 

3'oung friend. He had no sooner begun to state his 
views to his friend than the subject began to expand 
on all sides, showing its far-reaching influence and 
effects. His young friend had touched a spring that 
unlocked a whole mine of golden ore. 

It was Goethe's talk, after his return from Switzer- 
land, that inspired Schiller to write "Wilhclm Tell." 
The well-known novel "Adam Bede" arose from a 
tragic story told to George Eliot in her youth by an 
aunt of hers. "The incident," she said, "lay on my 
mind for years, like a dead germ apparently, till 
time had made a nidus in which it could fructify." 
Did not many of Sir Walter Scott's stories spring up 
in the same way ? 

Coleridge's most famous poem, the "Ancient Mari- 
ner," was suggested by a remark of Wordsworth's in 
conversation. The two men had been talking of 
writing a poem in which a supernatural event might 
be related in such a way as to give it a resemblance of 
truth; whereupon Coleridge related the dream of a 
friend in which a skeleton ship was navigated by dead 
men; then Wordsworth said he had been reading of 
a ship in the South Seas which, after one of the crew 
had shot an albatross, was tossed about in storms or 
spellbound in calms, the killing of the sea-bird being 
supposed to arouse the ire of the tutelary spirits of 
that region. 

Thus the "Ancient Mariner" arose from the single 
remark of a friend in conversation. "The gloss with 



46 Culture by Conversation 

which it was subsequently accompanied," says Words- 
worth, "was not thought of by either of us at the 
time ; at least not a hint of it was given to me ; so I 
have no doubt it was a felicitous afterthought." Of 
course ; the suggestion was all that the poet needed to 
build upon; for when his fertile mind had got to 
work, the rest followed easily. 

And curiously enough, it was in a similar way that 
an American poet received the first suggestion for his 
greatest and most popular work. "Hawthorne dined 
one day with Longfellow," says Mr. James T. Fields, 
"and brought a friend with him from Salem. After 
dinner, the friend said, 'I have been trying to per- 
suade Hawthorne to write a story based on a legend 
of Acadia, and still current there — the legend of a 
girl who, in the dispersion of the Acadians, was sepa- 
rated from her lover, passed her life in waiting and 
seeking for him, and only found him at last dying in 
a hospital when both were old.' Longfellow wondered 
that the legend did not strike the fancy of Hawthorne, 
and he said to him, 'If you have really made up your 
mind not to use it for a story, will you let me have it 
for a poem?' To this Hawthorne readily consented, 
and promised moreover not to treat the subject in 
prose till Longfellow had seen what he could do with 
it in verse." Such is the origin of "Evangeline." 

Doubtless there are many other similar instances. 
Nothing sets the imagination on fire like a touching 
or a striking story told in conversation. What a 



Germinator and Vehicle of Ideas 47 

flaming fire would have been kindled in the mind of 
Sir Bulwer Lytton had he been informed of the dis- 
coveries of Maspero and Schliemann in Greece, or of 
Rawlinson in Egypt! Well, some coming poet or 
romance writer will doubtless make something of them 
yet. The novelist often pictures historical events 
more vividly and truly than the historian. Bulwer 
Lytton's description of the eruption of Vesuvius in the 
year 79 (in "The Last Days of Pompeii") has been 
strongly confirmed by the experiences in the late erup- 
tion of that volcano. 



CHAPTER VI 

WHENCE COMES THE INSPIRATION OF LITERARY 
WORKERS ? 

"Books are specimens of the conversations of an age." 

— Huxley. 
"The best orator is he who turns ears into eyes." 

— Eastern Proverb. 

"The reason that so few good books are written," 
says Walter Bagehot in his essay entitled "Shake- 
speare, the Man," "is that so few people that can write 
know anything. In general, an author has always 
lived in a room, has read books, has cultivated science, 
is acquainted with the style and sentiments of the 
best authors ; but he is out of the way of employing 
his own eyes and ears. He has nothing to hear and 
nothing to see. His life is a vacuum." 

Who are the two most popular, most widely read, 
most interesting English authors of modern times? 
Who are the two whose books still live on and are con- 
stantly read, studied, and translated all over the 
world? Shakespeare and Scott, the dramatist and the 
novelist, the two men that lived most among the people 
and reflected best the life and character of the people. 
New and improved editions of the works of these 
authors are printed and published every year, and 



Inspiration of Literary Workers 49 

the printing and binding and selling of their works 
alone gives steady employment, even at the present 
day, to an army of men and women. 

Whence did these writers acquire such fascinating 
power as to attract and hold, generation after genera- 
tion, all classes of people, in all countries and 
tongues? You will say they were men of genius — so 
they were ; but this is not all. There are many men 
of genius, dramatists, poets, and novelists, who never 
acquire such power, and probably never will or could. 
These men were, in their habits and manner of living, 
different from other men of genius; and this fact 
explains, in large measure, the secret of their power. 
Just listen to what that shrewd and penetrating critic, 
Walter Bagehot, says of the character and habits of 
Sir Walter Scott, who has been called "the Scottish 
Shakespeare" : 

In his lifetime people denied that Scott was a poet, 
but nobody said that he was not "the best fellow" in 
Scotland — perhaps that was not much — or that he had 
not more wise joviality, more living talk, more graphic 
humour, than any man in Great Britain. "Wherever 
we went," said Mr. Wordsworth, "we found his name 
acted as an open semvie, and I believe that in the char- 
acter of the sheriff's friends, we might have counted 
on a hearty welcome under any roof in the border 
country." "Never neglect to talk to people with 
whom you are casually thrown," was his precept, and 
he exemplified the maxim himself. "I believe," ob- 
serves his biographer, "that Scott has somewhere ex- 
pressed in print his satisfaction, that amid all the 



50 Culture by Conversation 

changes of our manners, the ancient freedom of per- 
sonal intercourse may still be indulged between a mas- 
ter and an out-of-door servant; but in truth he kept 
by the old fashion, even with domestic servants, to an 
extent which I have hardly ever seen practised by any 
other gentleman. He conversed with his coachman if 
he sat by him, as he often did, on the box — with his 
footman, if he chanced to be in the rumble." Indeed, 
he did not confine his humanity to his own people ; any 
steady-going servant of a friend of his was soon con- 
sidered as a sort of friend too, and was sure to have a 
kind little colloquy to himself at coming or going. 
"Sir Walter speaks to every man as if he was his blood 
relation," was the expressive comment of one of these 
dependants. It was in this way that he acquired the 
great knowledge of various kinds of men, which is so 
clear and conspicuous in his writings ; nor could that 
knowledge have been acquired on easier terms or in 
any other way. No man could describe the character 
of Dandie Dinmont without having been in Lidder- 
dale. 

Now listen to what the same critic says of the habits 
of Shakespeare: 

Now it appears that Shakespeare not only had that 
various commerce with, and experience of men, which 
was common both to Goethe and to Scott, but also that 
he agrees with the latter rather than with the former 
in the kind and species of that experience. He was 
not merely with men, but of men ; he was not a "thing 
apart," with a clear intuition of what was in those 
around him ; he had in his own nature the germs and 
tendencies of the very elements that he described. He 
knew what was in man, for he felt it in himself. 



Inspiration of Literally Workers 51 

Throughout all his writings 3^ou see an amazing sym- 
pathy with common people, rather an excessive ten- 
dency to dwell on the common features of ordinary 
lives. You feel that common people could have been 
cut out of him, but not without his feeling it; for it 
would have deprived him of a very favourite subject — 
of a portion of his ideas to which he habitually re- 
curred. 

Shakespeare was too wise not to know that for most 
of the purposes of human life stupidity is a most valu- 
able element. He had nothing of the impatience which 
sharp logical narrow minds habitually feel when they 
come across those who do not apprehend their quick 
and precise deductions. No doubt he talked to the 
stupid players, to the stupid door-keeper, to the prop- 
erty man, who considers paste jewels "very preferable, 
besides the expense" — talked with the stupid appren- 
tices of stupid Fleet Street, and had much pleasure in 
ascertaining what was their notion of "King Lear." 
In his comprehensive mind it was enough if every man 
hitched well into his own place in human life. 

Is it not plain that the secret of the power of these 
great writers lies in the fact that they wrote about 
men and women they had known and seen themselves, 
and not merely about men and things they had read of 
or studied.? Is it not evident that the world was their 
book, and that they loved to mingle with and con- 
verse with the world? Addison declared that there is 
probably no great difference between the thoughts of 
the learned and those of the unlearned, only the for- 
mer have the power of putting them into literary 
shape. And Sir Walter Scott said himself that he 



52 Culture by Conversation 

had found more wisdom among the common people 
than he had found anywhere else outside of the pages 
of the Bible. 

In fact, now that I think of it, there are other 
famous and successful authors who were equally in- 
debted to their intimate and constant conversation 
with the people. Will any one affirm that Charles 
Dickens, for example, owed his knowledge to books, 
or that he was a student of books ? Will any one who 
knows his life deny that his education and knowledge 
were derived almost entirely from his intercourse with 
the London poor? Is he not noted as the most success- 
ful literary painter of the manners, characters, life, 
and language of the English working people? Did 
he not study and paint to the life even the criminal 
classes, the odd and peculiar classes, as well as the 
butcher and baker and candlestick-maker of his day? 
He never entered college, hardly a school of any kind ; 
and yet what college-bred man has equalled him? 
Even the schools and school-masters were never so 
successfully, so strikingly described, as he has de- 
scribed them in "Nicholas Nickleby." 

Goethe says that in fiction no character can be suc- 
cessfully painted that is not drawn from life. Dickens 
had known and conversed with nearly all the char- 
acters he drew. This is how he came to give such a 
life-like picture of the common people, their ways and 
works, their languages and conversation, their hopes 
and fears. He was a man of genius, it is true; but 



Inspiration of Literary Workers 53 

his genius would probably never have amounted to 
much without this education. A college education 
would be nothing compared with the one he had re- 
ceived. He was brought up among the poor, the dis- 
tressed, hard-working people of London; he knew 
them well, and painted them as he knew them. He 
observed and studied all classes, even the criminal 
classes, as I have no doubt Shakespeare did, and his 
pictures of their life and language are so true, so 
touching, so distressing, that the world has been 
fascinated by them ever since they were drawn. So 
that probably no other writers in all literature can, in 
this respect, be compared with these three — Shake- 
speare, Scott, and Dickens. 



CHAPTER VII 

SOMETHING MORE ABOUT THE SOURCES OF INSPIRATION 

"Many are poets who have never penned 
Their inspiration, and perhaps the best." 

— Lord Byron. 

We know that some great orators could not write, 
though they could speak on any subject; and this is 
sometimes the case with fine conversers. Though pos- 
sessing a remarkable faculty for expressing their 
thoughts easily and eloquently in speech or in con- 
versation, these unlit erary geniuses seemed to be 
"cribbed, cabined, and confined" the moment they took 
pen in hand and attempted to express their thoughts 
on paper. Such a man was Bronson Alcott. He was 
such an eloquent, fascinating talker that, as one of 
his friends expressed it, "to listen to him was like 
going to Heaven in a swing!" Emerson thought so 
highly of him, and listened to him with such deep 
respect, that he set him down as possessing "one of 
the best heads in America," and declared he had "for 
twelve years served him so well, he was the one reason- 
able creature to speak to that he wanted." "When at 
his best," continues Mr. Emerson, "Mr. Alcott said 
more good things than any other man I have ever 
known." 



The Sources of Inspiration 55 

In fact, Alcott was a born talker or converser; a 
man whose genius rose and shone in conversation like 
a beacon light on a dark sea. It was in conversation 
that his best thoughts pressed for utterance, and he 
thus scattered pearls of wisdom among all who cared 
to listen; and yet the moment he attempted to write, 
his inspiration seemed to leave him. Pen, ink, and 
paper seemed to have a freezing influence on his 
brain. He was a modem Socrates, who only lacked a 
reporting Plato to immortalise him. Among his 
friends were Emerson, Thoreau, the Channings, Ban- 
croft, Margaret Fuller, Hawthorne, Theodore Parker, 
James Russell Lowell, and a hundred other writers, all 
of whom thought highly of him. 

To those who love knowledge, culture, philosophy, 
the conversation of such a man is doubtless of inesti- 
mable value. Alcott was a great teacher, who inspired 
many of the best minds of his day into eloquent 
written expression. Who can tell how many fertile 
brain-seeds he scattered, how many authors he formed, 
how many fine intellectual minds he inspired? 

I suppose the orators who could not write needed, 
as Bronson Alcott did, the inspiration of an audience, 
for the full exhibition of their powers. Charles 
James Fox and John Philpot Curran may be men- 
tioned as examples. Curran vainly attempted to 
write an autobiography, and Fox tried in vain to 
write a history of James II. The work was so painful 
and exasperating to them they could not get on with it. 



56 Culture by Conversation 

Sir James Mackintosh has been reproached for not 
having produced any great or considerable work ; but 
by his rich and fertile conversation with his friends 
he has indirectly had more influence perhaps on the 
world's thought than many writers. Robert Hall, the 
famous Baptist preacher, declared that in conversa- 
tion with Mackintosh he had learned more of philoso- 
phy than he did from all the books he had ever read ; 
and Francis Horner said that Mackintosh had, by his 
conversation, "enlarged his prospects into the wide 
region of moral speculation more than any other tutor 
he had ever had." Is it not probable that his talk 
suggested many books.'' 

"When a man publishes a book," says Cowper, "he 
will never know what effect it has had until the day 
of judgment." Similarly, it may be said that when 
any man utters one fertile thought in conversation he 
will never know its full eff'ect until that day. 

Oliver Goldsmith's father was a poor curate in an 
obscure corner of Ireland; his sermons and talks 
were addressed to a few plain people ; and it might be 
supposed that his influence extended but a little way. 
But it was not so ; his influence extended farther, and 
was perhaps more potent than that of any other man 
of his day. For his son, Oliver, who was formed by 
his talks and sermons, set them forth in the "Vicar of 
Wakefield," in the "The Deserted Village," and in 
other famous works which have proved a source of 
edification, of profit, and of pleasure to several gen- 



The Sources of Inspiration 57 

eratlons of the reading public since his day, and will 
undoubtedly continue to do the same for many genera- 
tions to come. 

The poet Coleridge, speaking of his own life and 
conversation, says: "Would that the criterion of a 
scholar's utility were the number and moral value of 
the truths which he has been the means of throwing 
into general circulation ; or the number and value of 
the minds which, by his conversation and letters, he 
has excited into activity and supplied with the germs 
of their after-growth!" Well might "the old man 
eloquent" thus speak ; for he had, in his day, probably 
exerted a greater influence in this way than any other 
man of his time. 

I have sometimes thought it a pity that a man like 
Coleridge, who constantly poured out his accumulated 
stores of knowledge and thought in conversation to 
eager and willing listeners, should have no chance of 
any sort of compensation for his efforts, every one 
taking his ideas for nothing, as a matter of course. 
Some acknowledgment should have been made to him 
in some form. 

Mr. Stopford Brooke, in his life of the eloquent 
preacher Frederick M. Robertson, says: 

Mr. Robertson easily received impressions, and some 
of his highest and best thoughts were kindled by sparks 
which fell from the minds of his friends. His inter- 
course, even with those who were inferior to himself, 
v/as always fruitful. He took their ideas, which they 



58 Culture by Conversation 

did not recognise as such, and, as first discoverer, used 
them as his own; but they were always made more 
practical and more forcible by the use he made of 
them. Even of thoughts which he received from those 
to whom they belonged by right of conscious posses- 
sion he made himself the master. One from whom he 
borrowed says of him, "It was not that he appro- 
priated what belonged to others, but that he made it 
his own by the same tenure as property is first held — 
by the worth he gave it." To such a man society was 
a necessity. He needed its impulse, its clash of opin- 
ions, and, in some degree, its excitement; and he al- 
ways spoke best, wrote best, and acted best when he 
was kindled into combativeness or admiration by the 
events which stir the heart of humanity. 

That great tribune of the people in the French 
Revolution, Mirabeau, was another good example of 
this sort of genius. He fused the thoughts of others 
into his own ; made them a part of his thinking, his 
being, himself ; and when he spoke, he gave them such 
noble and eloquent expression that all men were moved 
and charmed by them. 

"To make other men's thoughts really your own," 
says Carlyle, "and not simply to reproduce them, is 
an evidence of genius." 

When an enemy of Voltaire said that he (Voltaire) 
was "the very first man in the world at writing down 
what other people thought," John Morley observed 
that "this assertion, which was meant for a spiteful 
censure, was in fact a truly honourable distinction." 

Perhaps the most remarkable example on record of 



The Sources of Inspiration 59 

the influence of conversation — an influence which had 
the most tremendous consequences — Is that which 
Diderot's conversation exerted on Jean Jacques Rous- 
seau. Diderot was more remarkable for his conversa- 
tion than for his writings. He shone as a converser ; 
was full of ideas and new projects; and he charmed 
everybody he met by his talk. But this was not all — 
he was a suggestive talker. He had more thoughts 
than he could write, and he threw these out for others 
to make use of. "He who knows Diderot only in his 
writings," says Marmontel, "does not know him at all. 
When he grew animated in talk, and allowed his 
thoughts to flow in all their abundance, then he be- 
became truly fascinating." I have no doubt that even 
more so than Burke, he grew into new thoughts as he 
spoke, and stirred the minds of his hearers into new 
views. 

Now, these two, Diderot and Rousseau, were closely 
associated in literary work for a considerable time; 
and one may imagine the eff'ect of Diderot's talk on 
so impressionable a mind as that of Rousseau. When 
the Academy of Dijon, in 1749, ofl^ered a prize for 
an essay on the question, "Whether the progress of 
the arts and sciences had tended to the purification of 
morals and manners," Diderot advised Rousseau to 
compete for it by an essay on the negative side of the 
question, pointing out to him the greater fame such 
an essay would procure than one on the affirmative. 
Rousseau acted on the suggestion at once. He began 



60 Culture by Conversation 

to study, to think, and to write, on a subject which 
he found congenial and interesting; it grew and ex- 
panded as he went on ; and when his essay was finished 
and published it made him at once famous. 

Rousseau had found his vocation ; he knew now what 
to do ; his career was marked out for him ; he had 
got into the line of thought that suited him; for 
nearly everything he subsequently wrote is more or 
less a protest against existing things, or the civilisa- 
tion of the time. . Then followed his "Essay on the 
Inequalities among Men" ; after that his famous tract 
on the "Social Contract" ; then his equally famous 
"Nouvelle Heloise," which is in the same vein; and 
finally, to crown all, his "Emile," which is simply an 
essay illustrating the same arguments in the form of 
a narrative, which became the rage of the time. 

"Emile," it is well known, was one of the chief 
factors in producing the French Revolution, and con- 
sequently, in effecting the thousand changes and 
modifications in the laws of France, and indeed in those 
of all Europe, which subsequently followed. 

Such was the influence of the conversation of Diderot 
on the mind of this man; such were the effects of a 
single suggestion dropped into the fertile brain of an 
apt and willing listener. Rousseau seized the ideas 
which his friend willingly offered him, clothed them 
in the magic hues of his own fascinating style, and 
set all France, all Europe, ablaze with his theories 
and his arguments. 



The Sources of Inspiration 61 

Men of genius by their conversation are often help- 
ful to one another in this way. They act and react 
on each other beneficially. Among such intellectual 
workers, there probably never existed two men who 
were more reciprocally beneficial to each other than 
Schiller and Goethe. These men came, after a time, 
to love and trust each other, and the talk of the one 
was just what the other needed to stimulate him to 
exertion. Goethe, naturally distant and proud, held 
Schiller aloof at first ; so that during the first five 
years of their near neighbourhood, they saw each other 
seldom. Schiller, reserved and naturally sensitive, 
would not, though he venerated Goethe, make any ad- 
vances of his own accord; so they remained almost 
strangers to each other until accident brought them 
together. Then, gradually, and almost impercepti- 
bly, each found the conversation of the other almost 
necessary to his existence. Goethe's talk inspired 
Schiller to higher and higher ideals and nobler work ; 
and Schiller's enthusiasm brought Goethe out of his 
seclusion, revived his interest in passing events, and 
compelled him to think' of, and take an interest in, 
the things of the day. Schiller's open, generous and 
kindly nature was a solace to Goethe; Goethe's full 
mind and large experience was a fountain of inspira- 
tion to Schiller. Each found in the conversation of 
the other suggestions which he turned to account in 
his own way. Schiller wrote his best works during 
the last ten years of his life, when he was in almost 



62 Culture by Conversation 

daily communication with Goethe ; and Goethe's most 
popular pieces, like "Hermann and Dorothea" and 
"Wilhelm Meister," were composed during the years 
in which he was most intimate with Schiller. 

Schiller inspired Goethe with new enthusiasm for liv- 
ing art and natural creations ; Goethe inspired 
Schiller with a desire to produce works of a nobler 
and higher order than he had hitherto attempted; 
and when Schiller died, Goethe retired into his old 
reserve and seclusion again, feeling he had lost the 
one man beloved, the most valuable and best-loved 
friend he had ever had, whose place could never be 
filled by another, and whose influence none other could 
produce. Goethe, though he was well aware he pos- 
sessed higher and stronger powers than Schiller, loved 
the man for his kindly nature and lofty aims ; and 
Schiller, though he knew he was inferior to Goethe, 
revered him for his intellectual power and his generous 
nature. Such was the influence of these two men, 
the one on the other ; such was this perfect union of 
friends. This mutual esteem and kindly exchange of 
friendly offices is indeed one of the most pleasing pic- 
tures in the history of literature. Would that all 
literary men could live together in such harmony and 
such mutually beneficial relations ! 

Any one who reads Trelawney's "Recollections of 
Lord Byron" may plainly see that Shelley's conver- 
sation had a powerful influence on Byron. In Italy 
these two men saw and conversed with each other al- 



The Sources of Inspiration 63 

most daily for a year and a half. Shelley was sober 
and philosophic in thought; Byron was flighty and 
erratic ; Shelley was earnest and striving after higher 
and nobler things ; Byron was sordid and selfish in 
most of his ways ; and while Shelley wrote to further 
noble ends, Byron wrote for fame and money. Short 
as their acquaintance was, however, Shelley's conver- 
sation influenced Byron's thinking to a considerable 
extent; and had he lived, he would probably have 
changed Byron's character and aims altogether. 

Thomas DeQuincey draws this striking parallel be- 
tween the conversation of Edmund Burke and Sam- 
uel Johnson. "While Burke constantly advanced to 
new truths," says he, "of which he himself never 
thought when he began to talk, Johnson never 
talked but to establish some question touching which 
he had made up his mind from the beginning. The 
doctor never in any instance grows a truth before our 
eyes while in the act of delivering it or moving 
towards it. All that he offered up, to the end of the 
chapter, he had when he began. But with Burke, such 
was the prodigious elasticity of his thinking, equally 
in his conversation and in his writings, the mere act 
of movement became the principle or cause of prog- 
ress. Motion propagated motion, and life threw 
off life. The very violence of a projectile, as thrown 
by him, caused it to rebound in fresh forms, fresh 
angles, spluttering, coruscating, which gave out 
thoughts as new (and which at the beginning would 



64 Culture by Conversation 

have been as startling) to himself as to his 
hearer." 

It was this very fertility and wide discursiveness of 
thought on the part of Burke, however, which proved 
fatal to him as a parliamentary orator. He talked 
over the heads of his audience ; he touched on so many 
collateral and distantly related points, that his 
hearers could not follow him, and finally lost sight of 
the object of his speech altogether; and so, wearied 
and discouraged by his wide-spreading flight, they 
left him while he 

Went on refining, 
And thought of convincing, while they thought of 
dining. 

Burke's conversation was indeed so rich and varied 
that, like the Nile, it enriched all on whom it flowed. 
I have already cited what Fox said of his conversa- 
tion ; and I have no doubt many others owed as much 
to him as Fox did. Dr. Johnson considered him by 
far the ablest of all the talkers whom he had encoun- 
tered. "If that fellow Burke were here now," said he 
on one occasion, when he was indisposed, "he would 
kill me." He felt that he needed all his powers to 
meet Burke, and that this exertion would exhaust him 
at that time. This was in Burke's soundest and 
strongest period of life, when he favoured liberty and 
progress on the broadest lines. Had the doctor lived 
to read his "French Revolution," he would have 
hugged him. The French Revolution largely 



The Sources of Inspiration 65 

changed Burke's way of thinking; while Fox stuck 
to his democratic ideas and his confidence in the people 
through the whole terrible turmoil. 

I shall conclude this chapter with one more example 
of the invaluable aid that an author may obtain from 
conversation. There is perhaps hardly a literary 
work in existence that has exerted such a deep, wide- 
spread, beneficial and lasting influence on its readers 
as "Plutarch's Lives" — a work that has not only been 
a fountain of inspiration and a quarry of literary 
material to hundreds of students and authors, but 
the means of forming the character and regulating 
the conduct of many men of action and heroic charac- 
ter. Now whence came the inspiration and even the 
material for this immortal work.^^ Mr. Langhorne, 
the translator of "Plutarch's Lives," declares that 
there is good reason to believe that Plutarch derived 
most of his material from the conversation of the 
Romans of his day ; "for," says Mr. Langhorne, with 
fine irony, "the discourse of people of education and 
distinction in those days was somewhat different from 
ours. It was not on the powers and pedigree of a 
horse — it was not on a match of travelling between 
geese and turkeys — it was not a race of maggots 
started against each other on the table, when they first 
came to light from the shell of a filbert — it was not 
by what part of a spaniel you may suspend him the 
longest without making him whine — it was not on the 
exquisite finesse and the highest manoeuvres of men. 



66 Culture by Conversation 

The old Romans had no ambition for attainments of 
this nature. They had no such masters in science as 
Heber and Hoyle (the Sullivan and Fitzsimmons of 
the day). The taste of their day did not run so high. 
The powers of poetry and philosophy — the economy 
of human life and manners — the cultivation of the 
intellectual faculties — the enlargement of the mind — 
historical and political discussions on the events of 
their country: these and such subjects as these made 
the principal part of their conversation. Of this, 
Plutarch has given us at once a proof and a specimen 
in what he calls his 'Symposiacs ;' or, as Selden calls 
it, his Table-Talk. From such conversations as these, 
then, we cannot wonder that he was able to collect such 
treasures as were necessary for the maintenance of his 
biographical undertaking." 

So much for conversation as the source of knowledge 
and inspiration to literary workers. Many other ex- 
amples might easily be cited; but these will suffice to 
illustrate this important truth, that there is no in- 
spiration for a literary man like that found in con- 
versation. 



CHAPTER VIII 

CONVERSATION VS. ARGUMENT AND DEBATE 

"Many can argue ; not many can converse." — Bronson 
Alcott. 

"Preserve me from the thing I dread and hate: 
A duel in the form of a debate." 

— Cowper. 

I WISH to say something to young people about argu- 
ment, especially to those young men who, being very 
fond of disputation, confound argument with con- 
versation, and slay people right and left by their as- 
sertions. Those, therefore, who have outlived this 
crude age may well skip this chapter. 

Swift says that "argument, as generally managed, is 
the worst sort of conversation, as in books it is the 
worst sort of reading." The Dean had doubtless seen 
a good deal of this sort of thing in his controversial 
day, and it is not unknown in ours. We have enough 
of it, especially at election times, when the newspapers 
and the talk of the day are full, not only of argu- 
ment, but of vituperation. Argument in conversation 
generally brings out the worst manners and the most 
violent passions, and seldom does any good to either 
arguers or listeners. Facts decide elections, not 
argument (that is, where Intrigue does not overcome 



68 Culture by Conversation 

both), and facts may be stated in the coolest way. 
But you will say, facts form part of the argument. 
So they do ; but a plain statement of facts, being the 
strongest argument, needs no comment ; the conclusion 
is inevitable. 

With arguers generally, enlightenment is out of the 
question; victory is the only thing thought of or 
aimed at. To show that he is right and his opponent 
wrong — ^this is the whole aim of the arguer. With the 
discovery of truth or the enlightenment of his op- 
ponent he has no concern. And when a man argues 
very much and very often, he will finally accept a false 
conclusion rather than suffer a defeat; and if his in- 
terest be on the side of his argument, he will shut his 
ears to everything that tells against it. The arguer 
takes a strong grip of one side of a question, without 
caring much what may be said on the other ; and some- 
times, from constant repetition, he will argue him- 
self into believing to be true that which he knows to 
be false. 

For their own dreams at length deceive 'em, 
And, oft repeating, they believe 'em. 

Arguing may help to sharpen one's wits and increase 
one's power of supporting or defending a proposi- 
tion ; but this, though it may be indulged in as an 
exercise in polemics, especially by young lawyers and 
politicians, is not conversation. True conversation 
aims at a free, unprejudiced expression of thought, 



Argument and Debate 69 

or an exchange of opinions on any given subject, and 
not at making converts or gaining a point. Young 
and half educated people argue; older and more ex- 
perienced people converse. The higher the culture, 
the less argument, and vice versa. 

I once heard of a gentleman who was so provoked at 
the arguments of his opponent, which he could not 
answer, that he threw a glass of water into his face ; 
whereupon the injured man, after quietly wiping his 
face, coolly exclaimed : 

"Well, that is a digression ; now for the argument !" 

This man, who loved argument better than life, de- 
served a better opponent; he had the merit of cool- 
ness, which few arguers possess; and as for his op- 
ponent, it is evident that an angel from heaven could 
not, if he tried, have convinced him of his error. Be- 
sides, such an incident with a less cool arguer would 
have been the signal for a row, which is frequently the 
upshot of arguments. 

Let us see how well-educated people act in this mat- 
ter. Mr. Edward Everett Hale, who had been reading 
Gait's book on Hereditary Genius, and had talked 
much with his friends on the subject, once asked Mr. 
Emerson if he believed in the doctrine. "No," said he, 
"I do not. If there were any truth In It, there would 
have been many Schillers and Goethes in Weimar." 
That was sufficient. Mr. Hale did not press the point. 
He saw that the sage had made up his mind on the 
subject, and that argument would be vain. 



70 Culture by Conversation 

A man of culture frankly states his views on any 
given subject, without hesitating to say wherein he 
is ignorant or doubtful ; and he is evGr ready for cor- 
rection or enlightenment wherever he finds it. He 
never presses his hearers to accept his views; nor 
would he (except with an honest desire for enlighten- 
ment) press another for his views on a disputed 
point. Among certain free-thinkers in German^^, 
with whom I had often occasion to talk, they would 
say, when the subject of religion was touched: "If 
you have any faith in you, by all means keep it; we 
would not for the world argue it out of you ; there is 
happiness in it." "Well, how do you come to your 
conclusions?" "Of ourselves; in the course of our 
studies, our conclusions were forced on us." 

These men, although they were free-thinkers, and 
frankly confessed that they had nothing to stand on, 
and knew nothing of a future life, declared they would 
be sorry to destroy the foundations on which any other 
man stood. That is what I call true liberality and 
toleration towards others. When the truth of a 
proposition could neither be proved nor disproved — in 
fact, they called it the unknowable — they did well to 
let it alone. It is true that the best talker, like the 
best book, is he who makes you think most; but the 
arguer does more than this: he forces his arguments 
down your throat. 

One may prepare for argument, but never for con- 
versation. He who does so will be sure to walk on 



Argument and Debate 71 

stilts, and fatigue himself without edifying the others. 
Preparation kills conversation. The mind so prepared 
remains fettered within prearranged limits, and can- 
not work in freedom. All must come naturally and 
spontaneously in conversation ; occasion, accident, and 
circumstance may start or turn the tide anywhere, 
each speaker leaving the other to wander whither he 
will. So long as there is any connection in the talk, 
it is all right. The whole charm of conversation lies 
in this freedom of range, where no effort or exertion 
is required, and where the mind follows no guide but 
inclination and common sense. 

"I have had much talk with many people in Eng- 
land," said Oliver Wendell Holmes to Max Miiller, 
"but with you I have had a real conversation." They 
talked on whatever they liked, without any prear- 
rangement at all, and expressed their views so freely 
to each other, that both were edified. 

The less one thinks of what he is going to say in con- 
versation, the better he will say it. The thought must 
grow out of what the others are saying. Precise 
speech, too, is fatal to conversation. If the speaker 
thinks of how he speaks and not of what he speaks, 
his hearers will think of this, too, which will destroy 
all spontaneity of thought on both sides. No man of 
sense attempts to speak in conversation as if he were 
addressing a convention with reporters before him. 
Speech-making and conversing are two things. Pre- 
pared witticisms, too, form no part of conversation. 



72 Culture by Conversation 

Witticisms must come naturally or not at all. Pre- 
pared witticisms are like those clap-trap devices, born 
of the stage, which are intended, not to elicit thought, 
but to excite applause. 

Debate must not be confounded with argument. A 
debate is a meeting for the express purpose of saying 
all that can be said for or against a given proposi- 
tion, with the view of finding out the truth or the best 
course to pursue, and deciding the same by a major- 
ity of voices. "Debate is a great advantage," says 
Mr. G. J. Holyoake, in his excellent little book on 
Public Speaking, "and when you win a sincere and 
able man to discuss with you, you should enter upon 
the exercise with gratitude. Your opponent may be 
the enemy of your opinions, but he is the friend of 
your improvement; and the more ably he confronts 
you, the more he serves you, if you have the wit to 
profit by it." Then he continues in this admirable 
strain : "An established truth is that which is generally 
received after examination in a fair field of inquiry. 
Now it is evident that, though truth may be discovered 
by research, it can be established only by debate. It is 
a mistake to suppose that it can be taught absolutely 
by itself. We learn truth by contrast. It is only 
when opposed to error that we witness truth's capabili- 
ties and feel its power. . . . Seek conflict only with 
sincere men. Concede your opponent the first and 
the last word. Let him appoint the chairman. Let 
him speak double time if he desires it. . . . Explain 



Argument and Debate 73 

to him the outline of the course you Intend to pursue ; 
acquaint him with the books you shall quote, the au- 
thorities 3'ou shall cite, the propositions you shall en- 
deavour to prove, and the concessions you shall de- 
mand. And do this without expecting the same at his 
hands. He will not now be taken by surprise. He 
will be pre-warned and pre-armed. He will have time 
to prepare, and if the truth is in him it ought to come 
out. If you feel 3^ou cannot give these advantages to 
your opponent, suspect yourself and suspect your side 
of the question. . . . Unless we have prated of phi- 
losophy in vain, we ought never to take up arms 
against an enemy without at the same time keeping 
his welfare in view, as well as our own defence." 

The young reader will now see how completely differ- 
ent conversation is from argument and debate, and 
how each has its separate function and place. While 
a word or a phrase, accidentally dropped, sometimes 
decides the character of a conversation, and leads to 
the largest expression of thought, a debate must re- 
main within well-defined limits. It must not get away 
from the subject discussed; for that would be out of 
order. While in conversation a chance remark often 
brings out hidden or unsuspected veins of thought or 
knowledge, this seldom happens In debate. Those who 
meet for conversation are ready for any line of 
thought ; debaters and arguers only for one line. 

The best converser is he whose talk is most sugges- 
tive, who touches the springs of thought and causes 



74 Culture by Conversation 

his hearers to bring forth the most interesting, instruc- 
tive, or amusing things they know. Especially is the 
humorous and amusing talker highly to be prized; 
for he not only refreshes the mind but the body, and 
helps to dispel reserve and loosen the tongues of his 
auditors. To be a humourist, a man must have self- 
poise; intense, nervous people are never humourists. 
The man who imagines that the whole world is waiting 
to hear what he has to say on a subject is devoid of 
humour, and is a bore in conversation. 

It is often when people meet for some other object 
than mere talk that the best conversation takes place ; 
for here it comes unsolicited as an incident, not the 
main object of the meeting, and the thoughts expressed 
are spontaneous and sincere. The most pleasant 
conversations I ever enjoyed were in a company of 
ladies and gentlemen who met to read Shakespeare, 
but whose thoughts and experiences, called forth by 
the passages read, were by far the best part of the 
entertainment. It is always on such occasions that we 
find that careless ease, that spontaneous utterance of 
thought, which is the charm of conversation. As the 
preacher who loses his notes is sometimes happier in 
his discourse than when he has them, so the man who 
accidentally drops into a conversation often surpasses 
himself in the freshness and beauty of his utterances. 

No conversation is more interesting than that which 
is founded on actual experiences. We listen with de- 
light to everything that is told of what one has per- 



Arguvient and Debate 75 

sonally undergone or seen, or to what has been said or 
done by people of whom we have heard. Even the 
writer or the public speaker can give us nothing to 
which we listen with more interest than illustrations 
from his own experience. Most good books, even the 
novels, are pictures or descriptions of the authors' 
personal experiences. In a long discourse on Rome 
and early Roman history, the one thing that impressed 
me and stirred my imagination powerfully was the 
statement that the speaker had himself when in 
Rome gone down into one of those ancient subter- 
ranean prison-chambers which are cut in the solid 
rock, where he saw the paths worn in the rock by the 
feet of the poor prisoners who had trodden those aw- 
ful dens for years. What a picture of human misery 
that single fact brings before the mind, and what an 
example it is of "man's inhumanity to man," which 
"makes countless thousands mourn!" 



CHAPTER IX 

REPORTING CONVERSATIONS. A GROUP OF FAMOUS 

TALKERS 

"The intimate and independent conversation of im- 
portant men is the cream of life." — Monckton Milnes. 

"Johnson's personality has been transmitted to u^ 
chiefly by a record of his talk." — Augustine Birrell. 

A HIGHLY intelligent gentleman once said to me: "I 
shall never forget the first time I read Boswell's life 
of Johnson. I thought of nothing else for months 
afterwards. It tinged my whole life in a manner that 
no other book did. I felt as if I were admitted into 
the society, and made the intimate companion, of a 
class of men and women of whom I had heard much, 
but had known little ; and now I knew them like per- 
sonal friends. I returned to the book day after day 
as to a company of interesting and pleasant people 
whom I knew, and whose conversation I loved; and I 
know that when I got through I was quite a different 
man to what I was when I began." 

To say that a literary work brings the reader into 
good company, and makes him better, gentler, wiser 
than he was before, is the highest praise that can be 
given to any book. No wonder that Boswell is read 
by every man who has any taste for literature, or cares 



A Group of Famous Talkers 77 

for the conversation of well-educated people ; no won- 
der that it is the favourite book of intellectual people 
everywhere ; for probably no other biography in exist- 
ence has given so much pleasure and instruction to its 
readers, or presented such a perfect picture of the 
life and talk of the people of the day. The conversa- 
tion of the Doctor and his friends is the great attrac- 
tion. ^ We see them at all hours; hear their talk on 
all subjects; and know their manner of living, their 
manner of thinking, their hopes and fears, under 
all circumstances. 

Poor Boswell! he had his faults — who has none? — 
but his merits have never been fully recognised. 
There have been many men who have talked as well 
as Johnson ; some much better, no doubt ; but who has 
had his talk so well reported? Crabbe Robinson — 
whom I esteem highly — ^wrote a book of about a thou- 
sand pages concerning the many eminent men whom 
he had known ; and yet he has been unable to report a 
single conversation with one of them ! All he can say 
is, "We talked a good deal about this and that," or, 
"His talk was brilliant and I was delighted with him," 
and so on. There is no life in such reports — anybody 
could say as much. His book is curious, but little 
instructive; amusing in a way, but little edifying. 
Boswell's is all this and much more. He brings not 
only his men and women in bodily presence before us, 
but he reveals their very souls to us. 

Few men can perform such a feat. It needs a pe- 



78 Culture by Conversation 

culiar genius to do such a thing. Consider for a 
moment those famous talkers, Mackintosh and Mira- 
beau, Macaulay and Sydney Smith ; what has become 
of their talks? Who has had a taste of them except 
those who heard them? Who has reported them? 
We have nothing but a few scraps, and "it was bril- 
liant, fascinating, captivating," and all that; which, 
compared with Boswell's reports, is wind against meat 
and drink, or the froth of champagne instead of the 
champagne itself. This is all that common writers or 
reporters can say of a conversation ; they have noth- 
ing of the real reporting talent, which is a divine 
gift; I might call it a genius for reproducing and 
finnly fixing the evanescent. 

Lord Lytton gives somewhere — I regret I cannot 
now lay hands on it — a striking example of the way 
in which a fine gentleman reported to a company of 
ladies and gentlemen one of Sir Robert Peel's 
speeches. Sir Robert had spoken on the Corn Laws, 
and the gentleman's report was something like this : 

"Well, what did Sir Robert say?" 

"Oh, it was fine, very fine, indeed." 

"But what did he say?" 

"Well, he said, the corn-laws — yes, the corn-laws — he 
said the corn-laws were, you know — well, it was awful 
— the corn-laws were — h'm — ^bad, you know; and — 
h'm — the number of people, you know — it was splen- 
did ; I never heard a more eloquent speech in my life !" 

Who has not known such reporters? I have known 
an illiterate Jew give a better report than that in two 



A Group of Famous Talkers 79 

words. Having noticed a crowd of Israelites waiting 
before the door of a New York theatre, I asked one of 
them what the meeting was for. "Dat ain't no meet- 
ing," said he. "What is it then.?" "Dat is a play." 
"What is the play about.?" "There is one Christian 
king, you know, and he got a Jewess for a wife." 
That gave me an idea of the play at once ; but who 
could tell what Sir Robert Peel said about the corn- 
laws .? 

When Macaulay said of Boswell that "his fame mar- 
vellously resembled infamy," and that his work, 
"though it delighted the world, brought nothing but 
contempt to the author," he did him great injustice, 
and said what is not true. "Must one who drives fat 
oxen himself be fat.?" Boswell revives for us a by- 
gone age, enables us to live and move among the 
brightest spirits of that age, to listen to their conver- 
sation and en j oy their companionship — what more did 
Macaulay do in his famous "History of England" .? Or 
did he do as much ? Did he do this so well, so correctly 
and impartially, as Boswell did.? 

Speaking of Macaulay's brilliant conversation with 
his friends, Mr. Trevelyan, his biographer, says: 
"With life before them, and each intent on his own 
future, none among that group of friends had the 
mind to play Boswell to the others." Had the mmdf 
Of course not. Not one in a thousand has such a 
mind as Boswell's. His words remind me of Charles 
Lamb's commentary on Wordsworth's criticism of 



80 Culture by Conversation 

Shakespeare : Wordsworth declared that he considered 
Shakespeare greatly overrated, and that "if he had a 
mind to, he could write exactly like Shakespeare." 
"So you see," said Lamb, with exquisite humour, "it 
was only the mind that was lacking !" 

It needed a Plato to reproduce the conversations of 
Socrates, and none but a man of rare genius could 
reproduce those of Johnson and his friends. It has 
always seemed to me an additional evidence of the in- 
spiration of the Gospels that plain men such as the 
Apostles could reproduce so admirably the conversa- 
tions of our Lord. 

The gifted Mrs. Beecher Stowe tried her hand at this 
kind of work, and made such a botch of it that 
Macaulay himself said of her report: 

"She puts into my mouth a good deal of stuff that I 
never uttered;" and doubtless she failed to put down 
what he did utter. Macaulay, who never tried any- 
thing of the kind himself, forgot that one who takes 
part in a conversation thinks more of what he is going 
to say himself than of remembering what the others 
say. That's where the reporter-genius has the advan- 
tage — he has little or nothing to say himself, but 
thinks much of what others say. It is easier far to in- 
vent conversations than to report them. 

Mr. G. W. Smalley, late London correspondent of the 
New York Tribune, gives in one of his London letters 
to the Tribune a new and striking characterisation of 
Macaulay as a talker, which is evidently the truth; 



A Gh-oiip of Famous Talkers 81 

"The literature, the biographical literature, the 
reminiscences of the last fifty years," he says, "are 
full of the renown of great talkers. Macaulay may 
be taken as a type of them. He was the superior of 
all in his own style ; but the style was one which pre- 
vailed, and it is fair to judge it by its best example 
or exponent. ... I have asked a number of per- 
sons who knew Macaulay well; who met him often; 
who made part of the world he lived in ; who sat with 
him at table ; who listened to him — whether his immense 
reputation was deserved, and whether he would now be 
thought a good talker. I quote nobody, but I sum 
up the general sense of all the answers in one phrase — 
he would be thought a bore. Whether that is a re- 
flection on Macaulay or on the society of his da}'^, is an 
open question ; but the opinion cannot be far wrong. 
'Macaulay,' said a talker whose conversation ranged 
over three generations, 'did not talk ; he lectured. He 
chose his own sub j ect. It mattered little what, and he 
delivered a discourse on it ; poured out masses of facts, 
of arguments, of historical illustrations. He was not 
witty ; he had no humour ; he was not a critic, as he 
himself confessed; he was devoid of imagination or 
poetic faculty. But he possessed the most prodigious 
memory ever possessed by a human being, and on this 
he drew, without stint and without end. People in 
those days listened to him ; his authority was estab- 
lished ; his audience docile ; nobody interrupted ; con- 
troversy was out of the question. Now,' continued 
the witness, 'no dinner-table would stand it ; he would 
be stopped, contradicted, his long stories vetoed; no 
monopoly or monopolist is tolerated. If you wanted 
to know about Queen Anne, you would go home, and 
read a cyclopaedia.' " 



82 Culture by Conversation 

"This is perhaps overstated," continues Mr. Smal- 
ley; "the picture is overdrawn; Macaulay is made as 
much too black as Trevelyan made him too white. 
But it is true in substance, and it will give you a notion 
of the change in the fashion of talk which has really 
taken place." 

And when we recall Sydney Smith's remark at one 
of Rogers's breakfasts, when he saw through the 
window that Macaulay was coming : "Now, gentlemen, 
if you have anything to say, say it at once ; for here 
comes Macaulay ! And when he gets a-going, not one 
of you will have a chance !" the picture does not seem 
to be overdrawn. So that Macaulay 's characterisation 
of Boswell's fame as "marvellously resembling in- 
famy," might be offset by the remark that his own 
fame as a talker marvellously resembles puffery. It is 
evident to me that that fine spirit, Sydney Smith, felt 
himself suppressed, as others did, by Macaulay's all- 
engrossing, monopolising talk ; for in his last sickness 
he was heard to murmur, "Ah, Macaulay will be sorry 
when I am gone that he never heard my voice ; he will 
wish he had sometimes let me edge in a word."* 

There is only one man in literature who had the wit 
and the skill to report his own conversation — who ac- 

* Curiously enough, while this book was passing through the 
press I happened to have noticed in one of Mrs. Brookfield's 
letters ("Mrs. Brookfield and her Circle") a passage which 
strongly confirms Mr. Smalley's report. "I remember sitting 
next to Macaulay at dinner," she says, '* at one period of which 
I asked him if he admired Jane Austen's works. He made no 
reply till a lull occurred in the general conversation, when he 



A Group of Famous Talkers 83 

tually took notes of it and expanded it into a book. 
Every man will know whom I mean — the "Autocrat 
of the Breakfast Table," — whose book gives light and 
life to many another breakfast table. Dr. Holmes, 
who gives his book the sub-title, "Every Man His Own 
Boswell," gives this advice to young authors: "It 
is a capital plan to carry a tablet with you, and when 
you find yourself felicitous to take notes of your own 
conversation." Find yourself felicitous! Yes; but 
how few ever find themselves so felicitous as he did! 
He was not only felicitous as a talker, but as a re- 
porter of talk, which is saying a good deal. The 
boarding-house and the landlady, the schoolmistress 
and the professor, and the rest may be all inventions ; 
but assuredly the talk is not — it smacks too strongly 
of real talk. And what a world of wit and wisdom 
there is in it ! One who has the "Autocrat" in his 
pocket has small need of other company; for when- 
ever he feels like having company, he has only to dip 
into it and find the liveliest and most entertaining 
company he can desire. 

Let any one who has enjoyed the conversation of a 
good talker sit down and try to reproduce one of his 

announced : ' Mrs. Brookfield has asked me if I admired Jane 
Austen's novels, to which I reply ' — and then he entered into a 
lengthy dissertation, to which all listened, but into which no one 
else dared intrude; finally describing how some time ago he had 
found himself by the plain marble slab which covered the remains 
of Jane Austen, when he said to himself, ' Here's a woman who 
ought to have had a national monument.' " 



84 Culture by Conversation 

talks, and he will see how difficult it is. He will find 
it almost as hard as painting a face from memory. 
Mrs. Ritchie (Thackeray's daughter), in speaking 
of the delightful conversations she had with Mr. John 
Ruskin, which she was unable to report, declares that 
the "finest conversations are the hardest to report ; in- 
deed they cannot be reported at all; it is only those 
in which specific truths are announced or dogmatical 
assertions made which can be reported." This may be 
so; and yet it looks like a side thrust at Johnson and 
Boswell, but Boswell reported the talk of his friends 
as well as that of the doctor himself, and among these 
were some of the finest talkers the world ever saw — 
Burke, for instance. There were gentlemen of all 
ranks and professions who talked with Johnson; ora- 
tors, authors, artists, statesmen, noblemen, clergy- 
men, tradesmen ; and their talk is all set down in the 
most complete way. He who thinks Boswell's task 
was easy might as well think the same of Reynolds's 
pictures and Garrick's dramatic representations. It 
looks easily done; everything looks quite natural and 
simple enough; but so does the work of all great 
artists, inventors and discoverers. Columbus's discov- 
ery of the New World was quite easy — he had only to 
sail right on and he was sure to strike some country — 
and yet there was only one man in five thousand years 
who thought of it or attempted it ! 

A striking example of "how not to do it" is given by 
a Mr. Glennie, college-bred and learned man though 



A Group of Famous Talkers 85 

he was, in his "Report of Conversations with Henry 
Thomas Buckle," the historian. Mr. Glennie had 
travelled with him in the East. From the quiet yet 
complete exposure of his report by Henry Alfred 
Huth in his admirable "Life of Buckle," it is evident 
that Glennie has put into Buckle's mouth much that he 
never said, much that is the very opposite of what he 
said, much that was never said by any one, and far 
too much of what Glennie himself said or pretends to 
have said. So that this man by his ill-advised and pre- 
sumptuous attempt at reporting the conversations of 
a great man has simply covered himself with derision 
and contempt. 

But the newspaper interviewer reports conversations. 
So he does ; but how ? He takes no part in the con- 
versation himself; his report is simply a sort of 
catechising the person interviewed; for there is no 
interchange of thought between the two. The inter- 
viewed feels as if he were undergoing a cross-examina- 
tion, in which his fate depends on his answers ; while 
the interviewer sets down his answers as worth so 
many dollars a column. 

"I wish I could remember half the good things," 
says Justin McCarthy, "that passed that night be- 
tween law and physic — I mean between Sir Alexander 
Cockburn and Dr. Quain. Both men were worthy to 
have found a Boswell. Sir Alexander was one of the 
few men who, in our time, have won fame alike at the 
Bar, in the House of Commons, and on the Bench. 



86 Culture hy Conversation 

But he ought to have won fame also as the sayer of 
good things, and to win such fame he needed only a 
faithful chronicler. And as for Dr. Quain, nobody 
could tell a good story better, no one could freshen up 
an old story into such new and animated life. When 
listening to his wonderful flow of anecdote, delivered 
with his own inimitable humour, I have often thought 
of the advice given by a fellow-countryman of his 
and mine, to a story-teller, 'Niver borrow; always 
invint!'" 

A clever Frenchwoman, who had listened to the 
talk of Voltaire, thus wrote after one of his conversa- 
tions: "What is there that he did not speak of? 
Poetry, science, art ; all in the tone of badinage and 
good breeding. I should like to be able to report to 
you that charming conversation, but, alas ! it is not in 
me to do it." Of course, it needed the gift of a Bos- 
well to do that, and this lady had the wit to perceive, 
and the frankness to confess, that she did not possess 
such a gift. She had, in fact, greater discernment 
than the historian and essayist, who, though he could 
praise the genius of authors and artists, princes and 
statesmen, failed to see that he who caught the living 
talk of the finest and brightest spirits of his time had 
gifts as rare and literary skill as admirable as his own, 
or as that of many of the famous men whom he so 
graphically describes in his celebrated "History of 
England," or in his charming essays on English 
statesmen and authors. 



CHAPTER X 

EEPARTEE WIT AND HUMOUR 

"Impromptu is the touchstone of wit." — MolUre. 

The French say "there is nothing so absent as pres- 
ence of mind." It is certainly true that every man or 
woman capable of repartee must be eminently endowed 
with that quality of mind. He must have coolness, 
or, in other words, a not easily flustered disposition; 
for he must always have his wits about him, and be 
capable of saying or doing the best thing that can be 
said or done under the circumstances. 

Some one has wittily defined wit as "the power to 
say what one would like to have said if he had only 
thought of it!" The Scotchman's wit comes after- 
wards, while an Irishman's wit is always on tap. Yet, 
while that may be true, the witty man is always ex- 
ceptional anyway. The two wittiest Germans in liter- 
ature, Saphir and Heine, had Jewish blood in their 
veins ; and I am inclined to think that one English- 
man, Benjamin Disraeli (Lord Beaconsfield) , owed 
much of his witty genius to the same source. He 
was always ready with a bright repartee on every 
occasion. When, for instance, he came forward as a 
poor, penniless young man to contest a seat in Parlia- 



88 Culture by Conversation 

ment against the well-known Colonel Grey, and was 
speaking to a large crowd in the hustings, some one 
cried out: "We all know what Colonel Grey stands 
for; what do you stand on?" he instantly replied, "I 
stand on my head!" Could any man but a man of 
admirable coolness and ready wit have given such an 
answer ? 

Probably few men had a cooler head (and less con- 
science) than Napoleon's famous minister, Talleyrand, 
who saved himself, even in the immediate presence of 
death, by his coolness and presence of mind. When, 
during the French Revolution, a sans-culotte mob had 
caught him and were about to string him up to a lamp- 
post, he turned a smiling face on the murderous crowd 
and exclaimed good-naturedly : 

"Do you think, my friends, that this lamp will give 
you better light when I am hanged to its post ?" This 
caused some of them to laugh, and then one cried, 
"Let the witty rogue go !" so he escaped. Yet he had 
as bitter a wit as any mortal who ever lived. When 
a sick friend whom he was visiting complained of 
feeling the pains of hell, Talleyrand exclaimed, 
"What! already.?" When Madame de Stael, who 
squinted slightly in one eye, met him limping along 
the street (for he had a game leg, courbSy or crooked), 
she said to him: "Comment est votre pauvre jambe, 
monsieur .?" "Comme vous voyez, madame," he replied, 
with a leer. 

Not every man, however, not even the most experi- 



JVit and Humour 89 

enced, can alwaj^s control his mind on the sudden ap- 
pearance of danger or death. If Captain Luce of 
the Arctic had only kept cool and thought for a 
moment, when his vessel was struck by a schooner in a 
Newfoundland fog, and not immediately sent off his 
first mate, Gourley, to inquire after the other vessel 
before finding out the damage done to his own, he 
might thus have saved the lives of the thousand pas- 
sengers on his own ship, who were nearly all lost on 
that occasion. 

Few men can act so coolly and effectively in danger 
as Lord Berkeley, who had always maintained that it 
was no disgrace to be overcome by superior numbers, 
but that he would never surrender to a single highway- 
man. One night his coach was stopped on Hounslow 
Heath by a man on horseback, who put his head in at 
the window and said : 

"I understand you are Lord Berkeley?" 

"I am." 

"I have heard that you have always boasted you 
would never surrender to a single highwayman." 

"I have." 

"Well," presenting a pistol, "I am a single highway- 
man, and I say, *Your money or your life !' " 

"You cowardly dog," said Lord Berkeley, "do you 
think I can't see your confederate skulking behind 
you.?" 

The highwayman, who was really alone, looked hur- 
riedly behind, and Lord Berkeley shot him through 



90 Culture by Conversation 

the head. His lordship had not only coolness and 
courage, but wonderful presence of mind. 

Women generally are not noted for wit; they have 
other qualities that make up for that, and probably 
quite as much coolness in danger as men have. Yet I 
have never heard or read of better repartees than some 
of those made by women. When the Laird of Combie, 
who was not noted for probity, found himself coolly 
treated at a dinner-party by Miss MacNabb, who was 
more noted for probity and benevolence than for 
beauty, he thought he would revenge himself on her 
by giving as a toast, "Here's to honest men and bonnie 
lasses!" bowing to Miss MacNabb. The lady took 
up her glass, and looking him full in the face, ex- 
claimed, "Well, Combie, we may Indeed drink that; 
for I am sure it applies to neither you nor me !" 

When a lady at a dinner-party asked Beau Brummel, 
the prince of dandies and the most insolent of men, if 
he would "take a cup of tea," he replied : 

"Thank you, ma'am; I never take anything but 
physic." 

"I beg your pardon, sir," replied the lady; "you 
also take liberties." That was a well-deserved and ad- 
mirable shot. 

I never think of Brummel, the bosom companion of 
the Prince Regent, and the most admired dandy of his 
day, without seeing him in my mind's eye in his later 
years — after his long enforced sojourn in France, 
where he had finally fled from his creditors — now 



JVit and Humour 91 

poor, thin, threadbare, and deserted by all the world 
— appearing before his quondam friend, the Prince 
Regent, now George IV., when the latter landed in 
France — I see him, I say, approaching the king joy- 
fully with "Hail, Royal George!" and looking as if 
he were once more to be the companion of princes ; 
and then I hear the king's exclamation : 

"Good God! Is that you, Brummel! Coachman, 
drive on!" 

And thus the "first gentleman of Europe" left his 
poverty-stricken friend standing there, as poor, piti- 
ful, deserted, and wretched as ever! "Put not your 
trust in princes !" 

How forcibly this meeting of a worthless king and 
his former friend and companion recalls the final 
meeting of Prince Hal and Falstaff , when the former 
became king! But Prince Hal acted royally, while 
George IV. acted heartlessly, shabbily. 

But let us return to the repartees, for which kings 
are not noted, though some of them have said clever 
things. When Louis XIV. was visiting the city of 
Beaune, and tasting and praising the wine of that 
region, the mayor exclaimed : 

"Oh, sire, that is not to be compared with what we 
have in our cellars !" 

"Which you no doubt keep for a better occasion," 
said the king. 

But it takes a woman to hit hard, without over- 
stepping the bounds of propriety. When the French 



92 Culture by Conversation 

ambassador, shortly after the Franco-Prussian War, 
was bitterly complaining to a lady at a large recep- 
tion-party in London, that England had not inter- 
fered in behalf of France, he concluded with these 
words: "But after all, it is but what we might have 
expected — we have always believed you were a nation 
of shopkeepers, and now we know you are!" "And 
we," replied the lady, "have always believed you were 
a nation of soldiers, and now we know you are not 1" 

Touch an Englishman on his nationality, and he is 
apt to be stung into a good retort. When one of the 
Viennese gallants at a gay company in Vienna rudely 
remarked that it was strange that all the best com- 
pany in that city except the English spoke the 
French language, an Englishman replied: "Oh, no! 
that is not at all strange ; for the French army has 
not been twice to London to teach them !" 

When Matthew Prior was acting as English am- 
bassador at the Court of France, he was shown 
through the famous palace at Versailles, with pictures 
of the victories of Louis XIV. on the walls, and so 
forth ; and when he was asked if his master, William 
III., had any such decorations, he replied: "The 
monuments of my master's actions are seen everywhere 
except in his own house !" "Bravo, Mat !" exclaimed 
Thackeray, on telling this story. 

At a dinner at Balliol College the master's guests 
were discussing the careers of two Balliol men, one 
of whom had just been made a judge and the other a 



Wit and Humour 93 

bishop. "Oh," said one, "I think the bishop is the 
greater man ; for a j udge can, at the most, only say, 
*You be hanged!' but a bishop can say, *You be 
damned!' " "Yes," said the master, "but if the judge 
says, 'You be hanged !' you are hanged !" 

Frances Countess Waldegrave, who had previously 
been married three times, took as her fourth husband 
an Irishman, Mr. Chichester Fortescue, who was 
shortly afterwards made chief secretary for Ireland. 
The first night that Lady Waldegrave and Mr. For- 
tescue appeared at the theatre in Dublin, an irreverent 
wag in the gallery called out, "Which of the four do 
you like best, my lady ?" whereupon the instant answer 
came from the secretary's box, "Why, the Irishman, 
of course I" 

I have given one instance of Disraeli's readiness in 
reply. On another occasion, when seeking re-election, 
his opponent, who had been a man of notoriously 
profligate life, produced at the hustings the Radical 
manifesto which Mr. Disraeli had issued twenty years 
before. "What do you say to that, sir.?" "I say," 
replied Disraeli, "that we all sow our wild oats, and 
no man knows the meaning of that phrase better than 
you, sir!" 

That Disraeli had essentially a sarcastic turn of 
mind is strongly evidenced by the way in which he 
proposed to acknowledge to the author the receipt of 
an indifferent or unwelcome book: "I have received 
your valuable book, and shall lose no time in reading 



94 Cultuj^e by Conversation 

it!" What do you think of that, sir? And yet no 
man could flatter better than he. He is said to have 
been a true courtier, not by training or study, but by 
genius; that is how he got along so well with Queen 
Victoria, whom he made Empress of India. In writing 
to her, he used the phrase, "We authors !" 

Here is a repartee which Mr. Gladstone pronounced 
the best ever made in Parliament. Sir Francis Bur- 
dett, who had been a Radical and afterwards (like 
Disraeli) became a Tory, said, while attacking his 
former associates with all the bitterness of a renegade, 
"The most oifensive thing in the world is the cant of 
patriotism ;" to which Lord John Russell replied : "I 
agree with the honorable member that the cant of 
patriotism is a very offensive thing; but the recant 
of patriotism is still more offensive !" No reply could 
be made to that hit. 

Few ecclesiastics had the bright wit of Cardinal 
Manning, who often floored an antagonist by a witty 
answer. 

"What are you going to do in life?" asked the Car- 
dinal of a flippant undergraduate of Oxford. 

"Oh, I'm going to take holy orders." 

"Take care that you get them, my son," was the 
reply. 

When a Fellow of Oriel had behaved rather extrava- 
gantly at a dinner overnight, he essayed, on coming 
out of chapel next morning, to apologise to another 
Fellow of the college : "My friend, I'm afraid I made 



Wit and Humour 95 

rather a fool of m^^self last night." "My dear fel- 
low," was the reply, "I assure you I observed nothing 
unusual." It is a question, however, whether this hit 
was intended or said unconsciously or sarcastically. 
Sometimes a man makes a sharp repartee which he 
never intended. 

Chief Justice Story attended a public dinner in Bos- 
ton at which Edward Everett was present. Desiring 
to pay a delicate compliment to the latter, the learned 
judge proposed as a toast, "Fame follows merit where 
Ever-ett goes !" Whereupon the brilliant scholar rose 
and responded, "To whatever heights judicial learn- 
ing may attain in this country, it will never go above 
one Story !" That is certainly a pretty story. 

At an auction sale in a Scottish village, the auc- 
tioneer was trying to sell a number of utensils, includ- 
ing a porridge pot. The auctioneer was shouting in 
vain for a bid, when his eye caught sight of a well- 
known worthy, the beadle, standing at the back of the 
crowd, and he shouted out: 

"Maister MacTavish, make me an offer for this pot. 
Why, it would make a splendid kirk-bell !" 

"Aye," replied the beadle, "if your tongue were 
in it !" 

"Sharper than a serpent's tooth is a thankless child," 
says Solomon. I imagine Sir Richard Bethel must 
have experienced the truth of this to the full. On 
reaching the peerage, Sir Richard sent for his son 
and heir, and thus addressed him ; 



96 Culture by Conversation 

"Richard, I have sent for you to say that Lord 
Campbell died last night, and that I have accepted the 
Marble Chair. I shall, of course, be made a peer; 
and at my decease that peerage must devolve upon 
you. I have sent for you to tell you this ; and further, 
that when at my death that peerage does so devolve, 
I am afraid it will pass to the greatest rascal in her 
Majesty's dominions !" 

The worthy son thought for a moment, and then 
coolly replied : 

"Well, sir, considering that you will then be dead, I 
suppose it will !" 

Is there anything in the records of insolence that sur- 
passes this? I imagine Peter Pindar himself would 
have been shocked by it. 

Here is one of Pindar's effusions, however, which 
will, I think, match it — four lines addressed to a noble 
lady who had lost her favourite pig, which she had 
named Cupid: 

Oh, dry that tear, so round and big, 

Nor waste in sighs your precious wind! 

Death takes only a single pig — 
Your lord and son are still behind ! 

Probably no public man in America surpassed Abra- 
ham Lincoln in the power of repartee, of which a 
hundred examples might be given ; but the following 
will suffice for the present. In the famous contest 
with Stephen A. Douglas for the United States sen- 
atorship, Douglas taxed his opponent with having 



Wit and Humour 97 

filled many low-down situations, which was done with 
the view of degrading him in the eyes of the people. 
"What Judge Douglas has said," replied Lincoln, "is 
true, every word of it. I have worked on a farm ; I 
have split rails ; I have worked on a flat-boat ; I have 
tried to practise law. But there is just one thing 
that Judge Douglas forgot to relate. He says that 
I sold liquor over a counter. He forgot to tell you 
that while I was on the inside of the counter, the judge 
was on the other !" 

To say something sharp to a king or an emperor is 
generally regarded as anything but tactful ; but some 
men and some women have done this in a handsome 
way. A noble Italian lady, who was introduced to the 
Emperor Napoleon Buonaparte at Paris, gave him tit 
for tat in a way not to be forgotten. The latter is 
the correct spelling of Bonaparte's name, which shows 
his Italian origin, and means "a good part" or "a 
good many." 

"Tutti Italiani sono perfidi," said Napoleon to her. 

"Non tutti, signor," she replied, "ma buona parteT* 
(Not all, but a good many !) 

That retort must have punctured, I imagine, even his 
thick skin. 

No wonder he hated talented women, as he did 
Madame de Stael, who saw through him, and described 
him correctly. What have women to do with govern- 
ments and governors? Ce n'est que la verite qui 
blesse. His idea of a great woman was she who 



98 Culture by Conversation 

had the most children — ^to go into his armies, of course. 
He had no use for women of talent. 

Equally good was Lady Blessington's reply to Louis 
Napoleon, when that cutthroat had made himself Em- 
peror of France. When this man was a penniless 
adventurer in London he had often received the hos- 
pitalities of Gore House, of which Lady Blessington 
was the hostess ; so when her ladyship had lost every- 
thing, and even her furniture was sold at public 
auction, she made a trip to Paris, in company with her 
old friend, the Count d'Orsay. She remained there 
for some weeks, and although all Paris knew of her 
presence, no notice of her was taken by the Court, no 
invitation came from the Tuileries. At length at a 
great reception at which she was present, her former 
guest, now emperor, arrived, and while the crowd 
were bowing and courtesying to him as he passed, his 
eye caught sight of Lady Blessington. 

"Ah, milady Blessington! restez-vous longtemps a 
Paris ?" said he. 

"Et vous, sire.^" she replied. 

That was all, but there was a vast deal in those three 
words. 

There is no record of the tyrant's answer; but we 
can guess how he felt the hit. Had she lived, she 
would have shed no tears at the news of his disastrous 
defeat, dethronement, and exile. 

Here are two ladies who tilted beautifully at repartee 
at an accidental meeting. After Miss Margaret 



Wit and Humour 99 

Moore and Lady Manners had had honours conferred 
on their families, they met in the street ; and as Miss 
Moore seemed to meet Lady Manners in a somewhat 
distant manner, her ladyship remarked : "Honores mu- 
tant Mores !" Whereupon Miss Moore replied : "That 
goes better in English, madam — ^honours change 
Manners !" What two men could have equalled that ? 

When Lord Granville, in inviting Mr. Lowell, then 
American ambassador in London, to a dinner-party at 
his house, his lordship said he knew that Mr. Lowell 
was the most engaged man in London, but hoped he 
would be able to come. Mr. Lowell replied: "The 
most engaged man in London gladly accepts the kind 
invitation of the most engaging!" 

A man named Dunlop having defied Theodore Hook 
to make a pun on his name, the latter instantly re- 
plied: "Oh, that's easy — just lop off one half of it, 
and 'tis done !" Could anything be happier? 

When Randolph of Roanoke met a political adver- 
sary in the street, the latter looked viciously at him 
and cried: "I never give the wall to a scoundrel!" 
Whereupon Randolph instantly replied, "I always 
do!" and passed on the other side. I suppose it was 
this same fellow to whom he referred as the "vacant 
member" when pronouncing a eulogy on a deceased 
member of Congress: "Yes, Mr. Chairman, our de- 
ceased brother was a noble, high-minded, well-informed 
statesman, whose seat is now vacant^ — pointing with 
his long, skinny finger to the successor of the de- 



100 Culture by Conversation 

ceased — "and it will be long before we shall see his 
like again!" The gentleman referred to was ever 
afterwards known as the "vacant member." 

Mr. Evarts's reply to Lord Coleridge while they 
were standing on the left bank of the Potomac is well 
known : 

"Is it true," said Lord Coleridge, "that Washington 
threw a silver dollar across the Potomac?" 

"Very likely," returned Mr. Evarts, "very likely; 
for you know a dollar went much farther in those 
days than it does now !" 

That was graceful, but Evarts afterwards declared 
that, were it not for fear of discourtesy, he could 
have made a much better answer, viz : "In fact, he did 
better than that — ^he threw a sovereign across the 
Atlantic 1" 



CHAPTER XI 

WIT AND HUMOUR ( CONTINUED) 

"How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the 
card, or equivocation will undo us." — Hamlet. 

A SENSE of humour is such a good thing that 
Dr. Van Dyke — himself a good example — declares 
that it is "a means of grace." And Dr. Watson, in 
"Beside the Bonnie Briar Bush," makes one of his 
characters express the same thought in a forcible 
way. "He has nae mair sense o' humour than an 
owl," says Mrs. Macfadden, speaking of a Scotch 
minister, "and I hold that a man without humour 
shouldna be allowed into a poopit. I hear that they 
have nae examination in humour at the college; it's 
an awfu' want; for it would keep mony a dreich 
[dry] body out." 

In fact, there is no profession, not even that of a 
clergyman, in which a sense of humour is not of ad- 
vantage. Besides, one witty sentence may make a 
man merry for half a day. A wearisome advocate 
was making a long plea before Lord Norbury when 
a big jackass in the street suddenly brayed loudly. 



102 Culture by Conversation 

"One at a time! One at a time!" cried Lord Nor- 
bury. ..." 'Tis a fine spring day, Pat — ^that will 
bring up everything underground." "God forbid, 
sir," said Pat ; "I have buried three wives !" 

When a young country clergyman came to 
London, ambitious to display his talents before a 
London audience, the Rev. Horace Binney gave him 
an opportunity, and the young preacher selected as 
his text the passage in Revelations about the white 
horse ascending and descending. After looking at the 
great audience, and repeating his text, his voice failed 
him, and he broke down completely, and sat down. 
Mr. Binney, after a few words, dismissed the audi- 
ence ; and the young preacher, who had ascended to 
the pulpit two steps at a time, now came down very 
slowly and meekly; whereupon Mr. Binney said to 
him: "Now, my young friend, if you had ascended 
as you have descended, you might have descended as 
you ascended !" 

It is well known that nearly all our great writers, 
Shakespeare, Scott, Dickens, Irving, Holmes, Lowell, 
Cervantes, Moliere, Goethe, were largely endowed with 
humour. Carlyle says that a man without humour has 
only half a mind. That assertion, however, like many 
others of his, is too sweeping. Had Newton, or Dante, 
or Copernicus, or Milton, or Washington, or Sumner, 
only half a mind.'' Charles Sumner, great orator, 
scholar, and statesman as he was, could hardly see the 
point of a joke. No; a sense of humour is perhaps 



Wit and Humour 103 

the most valuable quality of the mind ; but there have 
been great men without it, or with very little of it. 
What a blessed thing it is to be able to see the humor- 
ous side of things, as well as the serious! When a 
young gentleman said to Dr. Van Dyke, "I am not 
going to join the church — they are all hypocrites 
there," the doctor coolly replied, "Never mind, my 
dear fellow ; there's room for one more !" A humour- 
less clergyman would have taken the assertion as an 
affront, and spoiled the whole thing. 

The following reply by a little French-Canadian 
lawyer is quite as good as Henry Clapp's saying of a 
famous editor: "Yes, he is a self-made man, and he 
worships his creator!" 

The little Canadian lawyer had to speak for his 
candidate at a bye-election in Ontario, at which the 
opposing candidate, who was no speaker, was present. 
The substance of the latter's speech was as follows: 
"Fellow-citizens ! you know me — I'm a self-made 
man — you know me! I cannot make speeches." To 
which the little French lawyer replied: "Fellow-cito- 
yens ! I'm verra sorry ma f reend could not coom — I'd 
like mooch you haf seen heem. He verra defferent 
from dis man dat have made heemself . I believe dat. 
But ma man — God made heem! And, ma freends, 
dere is joost as mooch deeference between de men as 
dere is between de makers !" That was all his speech ; 
but it was enough to gain the seat for his "freend 
who could not coom 1" 



104 Culture by Conversation 

I think Sheridan never exhibited his ready wit more 
effectively than on the occasion when he met two royal 
dukes in Oxford Street, and one of them said to him : 

"Sherry, we have been discussing the question 
whether you are more rogue or charlatan. What is 
your opinion?" 

"Faith," replied the wit, taking each by the arm, "I 
believe I am between the two !" 

When Thomas Jefferson arrived in France as am- 
bassador from the United States, the French Minister 
of Foreign Affairs thus accosted him: "You have 
come to replace Dr. Franklin, I understand?" 

"No, sir," he replied ; "I have come to take the place 
of Dr. Franklin — no man can replace him !" 

The Japanese don't like to be called Japs. A dis- 
tinguished diplomat was travelling from Tokio to 
Yokohama, when an American in the car leaned across 
and said: "Say, what 'ese' are you, Chinese or 
Japanese?" Quick as thought the reply came, in 
perfect English : "May I inquire what *key' are you, 
Yankee or monkey?" 

Here is a good bit of ecclesiastical wit. Dr. Henson 
had prepared for a Chautauqua meeting a lecture en- 
titled "Fools." There was an immense audience, and 
Bishop Vincent introduced the lecturer thus : 

"Ladies and Gentlemen : We are to have a great treat 
this evening, in the shape of a lecture on 'Fools' 
by " 

There was a look of consternation in the faces 



wit and Humour 105 

on the platform, and a ripple of laughter through 
the audience. Pausing until this subsided, the speaker 
continued : 

"... one of the brightest men in the country !" 

This witty surprise caused tumultuous merriment, 
and everybody was curious to hear how Dr. Henson 
would treat this unique introduction. He began : 

"Ladies and Gentlemen : I am not half so big a fool 
as Dr. Vincent " 

Here the laughter broke forth again with redoubled 
vigour; and when it subsided he continued: 

"... would have you believe !" 

The roar that greeted this ready sally was such that 
it was some time before he could begin his lecture. 

It is generally by some unpremeditated but oppor- 
tune utterance that the orator creates the greatest en- 
thusiasm or produces the most startling effect. At 
the great meeting at Exeter Hall, London, on the 
occasion of the death of President Garfield, where 
James Russell Lowell, then minister to England, pre- 
sided and read a classic tribute, it was Bishop Simp- 
son, of Philadelphia, that electrified the audience. 
After referring to the intimate relations between 
England and the United States ; to the Queen, her 
sore bereavement when Prince Albert died, and to her 
message of sympathy to Mrs. Garfield, he exclaimed 
with intense fervour : "God bless Queen Victoria !" It 
was so unexpected that the whole audience, hitherto so 
quiet and solemn, rose and cheered the orator enthusi- 



106 Culture by Conversation 

astically. Mr. Lowell seemed perplexed at first, but 
after a little time he joined in the demonstration. In 
the midst of the tumult the orator stood with folded 
arms, apparently as calm as though he were a fabled 
god who had invoked some mighty force. 

A few days later. Dr. Buckley, who was present, 
said to Bishop Simpson: "Bishop, was the passage 
which produced this wonderful result committed to 
memory beforehand.?" 

"No," he replied; "I will confess to you I was as 
much surprised as Mr. Lowell at the effect of my 
words." 

It was evident that it was not merely loyalty to 
Queen Victoria, but the touching presentation, elo- 
quently expressed, of the two queens of kindred peo- 
ples in deep affliction expressing sympathy the one for 
the other, which caused such an uncommon outburst 
of feeling. 

When a member of the Carlton Club declared that 
the lines of a certain new poet would be read when 
those of Virgil and Horace were forgotten, Porson, 
the great Greek scholar, answered : "Very likely, very 
likely ; but not till then !" 

Roland Hill, after preaching in a certain Baptist 
church, presented himself at the communion table to 
partake of the sacrament, when one of the elders whis- 
pered to him that, he not being one of their body, they 
could not welcome him to their table. "Oh," said he, "I 
beg your pardon ; I thought it was the Lord's table." 



JVit and Humour 107 

Well, these are all good examples of repartee, of 
which many more could easily be given; but let us 
look for a moment at some merely humorous ones. 
Wit generally kicks or cuts ; humour always smiles or 
soothes. First, place aux dames! When Grace 
Greenwood, at a tea-party in Boston, was about to 
leave, after telling a funny story, she was requested 
to tell one story more, when she replied: "Oh, no; 
you must excuse me; I cannot get more than one 
story high on a cup of tea!" While talking about 
the names of steamships. Miss Alcott said: "If these 
vessels are called the Asia, the Persia, and the Scotia, 
why not call one of them the Nausea?*' This reminds 
me of another equally good. When the English editor 
of the New Review, which was intended to be a high- 
toned magazine, was complaining of the difficulty of 
finding a suitable title, a bright young lady said : "We 
have got the Cornhill, the Ludgate, and the Strand — 
why not call yours the Cheapsidef 

Here are two German stories — the one merely amus- 
ing, the other witty. In German, the word beJcommen 
means to get or receive; and so, at the foot of the 
Tyrol Mountains, an innkeeper, who supplied animals 
to ride up the mountains, put up this sign: "Here 
Englishmen and Americans become asses !" 

The University of Giessen was once noted for its 
custom of exchanging degrees for dollars. Two Eng- 
lishmen, after having thus secured their degrees, went 
off in high glee to dine and wine. After dinner, they 



108 Culture by Conversation 

hired a carriage and drove up to the house of the 
dean, to whom they declared they wanted two more 
degrees for their horses. "Oh !" said the dean, "we don't 
sell degrees for horses ! We sell them only to asses !" 

"Who composed the 'Magic Flute'?" asked a lady of 
Mr. Gilbert at a dinner-party. "Mozart," he replied. 
"Is he still composing .f'" "No, madam; he is de- 
composing." 

Shall I set down some specimens of Irish bulls ? It is 
said that Parliament would be a dull place were it not 
for the amusing speeches of some of the Irish mem- 
bers. "The key of the Irish difficulty is not to be 
found in the empty pocket of the landlord!" "As 
long as the voice of Irish suffering is dumb, the ear 
of English compassion is deaf to it !" "The silence of 
the Irish members shall be heard no longer!" "If I 
have any partiality for the honourable member, it is 
against him!" "I answer boldly in the affirmative. 
No !" "Every man ought to be ready to give his last 
penny to save the remainder of his fortune !" "Give 
him a chance in order that he may redeem a character 
irretrievably lost!" "This measure will cause the 
population of Ireland to be decimated by two-thirds !" 
"That tax [on leather] will be hard on the barefooted 
peasantry of Ireland !" 

Here is a Scotch witticism worthy of an Irishman. 
At an open-air meeting in which Sir John Douglas, a 
candidate for Parliament, was speaking, a dog began 
to bark, disturbing the orator; whereupon a man in 



JVtt a? id Humour 109 

the crowd called out: "Hey, Jock! is that your 
doug?" "Na, na," replied Jock, "I am dougless !" 

I once heard something of Lord North being dis- 
turbed by the barking of a dog while presenting his 
budget to Parliament, whereupon he exclaimed: "So 
it seems that the only one displeased with my budget 
is the member from Barkley !" That's how the Eng- 
lish pronounce Berkeley. 

William and John Scott, afterwards Lord Stowell 
and Lord Eldon, displayed their bright wit very early 
in their profession as lawyers. When they were young 
men at the Bar, they determined, having had a stroke 
of professional luck, to celebrate the occasion by 
having a dinner at a tavern and going to the play. 
When it was time to call for the reckoning, William 
dropped a guinea, which he and his brother searched 
for in vain ; so they came to the conclusion that it 
had fallen between the boards of the uncarpeted floor. 

"This is a bad job," said William ; "we must give up 
the play." 

"Stop a bit," said John ; "I know a trick worth two 
of that ;" and he called for the waiter. 

"Betty," said he, "we've dropped two guineas. See 
if you can find them." 

Betty went down on her hands and knees and found 
the one lost guinea, which had rolled under the fender. 

"That's a very good girl," said John Scott, pocket- 
ing the coin, "and when you find the other you can 
keep it for your trouble." 



110 Culture by Conversation 

And so the prudent brothers went with a light heart 
to the play, and so eventually to the Bench and to the 
Woolsack. 

I wonder whether lawyers ever have any compunc- 
tions of conscience when they win by a clever trick like 
this. I hear some one say, "Of course not; that's 
their trade, and they can't help it !" 

A certain Justice Day had a case before him of 
some duration and many technicalities ; when the 
counsel, towards the conclusion of a long, wearisome 
speech, said: 

"Then, my lord, comes the question of bags ; they 
might have been full bags or half- full bags ; or, 
again, my lord, they might have been empty bags." 

"Or," interrupted the sorely tried judge, "they 
might have been wind-bags !" 

Judge Bumblethorpe had been trespassing over a 
clover-field, when the mad charge of a bull caused him 
to run and make a wild somersault over a fence. He 
came up to the farmer who owned the field, and ex- 
claimed in an angry tone: 

"Is that your bull over there?" 

"Wall, I guess it is." 

"Well, sir, do you know what he has been doing.?" 

"Chasing ye, mebbe." 

"Yes, sir, chasing me ; and do you know who I am?" 

"No, I don't." 

"Well, sir, I am Judge Bumblethorpe." 

"Is — that — so?" said the farmer, in a deliberate 



JFit and Humour 111 

manner. "Is — that — so? Why in thunder didn't ye 
tell the bull, judge?" 

When a witness turns the tables on a lawyer, the 
other witnesses and the spectators usually enjoy the 
encounter hugely. In this case the lawyer's name was 
Missing, and he was defending a prisoner charged 
with stealing a donkey. The prosecutor had left the 
animal tied up to a gate, and when he returned it was 
gone. Missing was very severe in his examination of 
the witness. 

"Do you mean to say that the donkey was stolen 
from the gate?" 

"I mean to say, sir, that the ass was Missing^* 

When the comedian Burton was in "trouble," a 
young lawyer was examining him as to how he spent 
his money, of which there were £3,000 unaccounted 
for. The young lawyer, putting on a severe, scru- 
tinising face, exclaimed with much self-complacency: 

"Now, sir, I want you to tell this court and jury how 
you used those £3,000." 

"The lawyers got that," was Burton's quick reply. 

The judge and audience were convulsed with laugh- 
ter, and the counsellor was glad to let the comedian 

go- 
Some curious scenes occur between the legal and the 

dramatic people, and usually the latter come off best. 
Justice Garrow asked Rees, the mimic, in a case 

about bail, whether he was not an imitator. 
"So they tell me." 



112 Culture by Conversation 

"Tell you! You know it, sir. Are you not in the 
habit of taking people off?" 

"Oh, yes, your lordship ; and I shall take myself off 
the moment your lordship has done with me !" 

This was something like the man who had a good 
practice, and yet his practices were questionable. 

Counsel to prisoner: "Well, after the witness gave 
you a blow, what happened.'^" 

"He gave me a third one 1" 

"You mean a second one.^^" 

"No, sir ; I landed him the second one." 

In an important case in an English chancery court, 
a loquacious witness was asked : 

"What sort of a man was he?" 

The reply came swiftly: 

"Just an undersized, red-faced little chap like your- 
self!" 

"One more question," said the counsel in another 
case. "Has not an attempt been made to induce you 
to tell the court and the jury a different story.''" 

"Yes, sir ; I guess you've tried about as hard as any 
of 'em !" 

Counsel (fiercely) : "Are you telling the truth?" 

Witness (wearily) : "As much of it as you will 
let me!" 

"And so," said the counsel in another case, "Duffy 
called you a scoundrel?" 

"He did, sir." 

"And did you attempt to defend yourself?" 



JVit and Humour 113 

"Did I? You ought to see DufFy !" 

With all its difficulties and perplexities, I imagine 
there is much fun, much zest and enjoyment in a 
lawyer's life. It is win or lose, defeat or conquest, 
every time; always a species of intellectual battle, 
which cannot fail to give zest to any contest. An in- 
finite number of witticisms and funny legal experi- 
ences might be given, but any one wanting more than 
these here given may easily get them in Marshall 
Brown's encyclopaedic book, "Wit and Humour of 
Bench and Bar." I am also indebted to that interest- 
ing book "Collections and Recollections, by One who 
Has Kept a Diary," for a number of the stories in 
these chapters. 



PART II 



SOCIAL AND INTELLECTUAL INFLUENCES 



"The best education in the world is that got by strug- 
gling to get a living." — Wendell Phillips. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE CONDUCT AND CONVERSATION OF A GENTLEMAN. 

HOW TO BECOME A GOOD TALKEE 

"Natural talk, like ploughing, should turn up a large 
surface of life, rather than dig mines into geological 
strata." — Robert Louis Stevenson. 

Most people have heard of the famous South African 
financier and state-builder, Cecil Rhodes, who provided 
in his will for two scholarships at Oxford for each of 
the States and Territories of our American Union. 
It was a noble bequest, and has been nobly received; 
for these scholarships, which entitle one hundred 
American students to a three-year course at Oxford, 
one hundred every three years forever, must be of in- 
calculable benefit to the individuals who enjoy them, 
and may be of great value to the nation to which they 
belong. 

But what I wish to draw attention to is the social 
training which is obtained at Oxford, and which 
means, perhaps, even more than the intellectual train- 
ing. Just listen to what Dr. William T. Harris, late 
United States Commissioner of Education, one of the 
ablest educators and administrators in this country, 
says of Oxford : 



118 Culture by Conversation 

Oxford is the English school for gentlemen. A 
typical English gentleman is a peculiar product, some- 
what different from the ideal gentleman of France or 
Germany, or of any other nation in Europe. An 
American would suppose, on first hearing of the Eng- 
lish gentleman, that he must be a person very sensi- 
tive as to his caste — as to his wealth or nobility, his 
birth or official position — and continually making 
demands for recognition; and that in his ordinary 
actions he is likely to imply a consciousness of his 
superiority in wealth or birth or official station. No 
greater mistake could be made. Of all people in 
Europe the Englishman is the most apt to see that 
any such manifestation is vulgar, and any conscious- 
ness or self-assertion of caste is marked at once as a 
gross violation of the code of the gentleman. The 
English aristocracy of birth has an inimitable charm. 
It is impossible to storm its intrenchments, because it 
assumes nothing for itself. It has habituated itself 
to this repression of the vulgar desire to attract at- 
tention to its possessions, and made it second nature, 
so that it does not reveal any effort. . . . The ideal 
English gentleman never permits himself to think of 
his rank or station ; he has acquired a sense of honour 
that excludes even the thought of it as something 
odious. Indeed, the English gentleman can be dis- 
tinguished from the other Englishmen by the ease 
with which he bears this impersonality, this sincere 
humanity, the utter effacement of his own claims for 
special consideration. 

This, then, is the atmosphere of Oxford; such are 
the unpretentious manners of the true gentleman; 
and to enforce the truth of his description. Dr. Harris 



Conversation qf a Gentleman 119 

tells this interesting story: Two Americans were 
travelling north from Edinburgh in a railway car- 
riage, when a plain-looking gentleman enters the 
same coupe with them ; and, lighting a briar pipe, 
begins talking to them and another gentleman in an 
ofF-hand, easy way, on topics of the day. On stop- 
ping at a station on the way, where this plain gentle- 
man alights, they perceive a fine equipage with lackeys 
and outriders waiting for him ; and on inquiring who 
he is, they are told, "That is the Duke of Athol." 
"It was very kind of him," said the Americans to 
their travelling companion, "to talk so familiarly to 
two cads like us." To this the gentleman quietly 
assented. Then when this gentleman alighted, they 
found a similar equipage waiting for him. "Who is 
he.?" they inquired of the conductor. "That is the 
Duke of Sutherland." "The deuce! And who are 
you ?" exclaimed the astonished Americans 1 

Well, all this is high praise of the English gentle- 
man ; and from my own limited experience during 
the eighteen months I passed in England, I think it is 
pretty well founded. 

But must a young American go to Oxford in order 
to become a perfect gentleman.'' Must he breathe 
that highly refined atmosphere to become perfect in 
manner and speech ^ Would not Yale or Harvard do 
as well.'' I never knew but one Englishman so thor- 
oughly liberal and large-minded as some Americans I 
have known. But undoubtedly there are such. Of 



120 Culture by Conversation 

course, our American Cambridge and Harvard are not 
so ancient, so thoroughly well founded in manners and 
speech, as those of England; but I am strongly in- 
clined to think that for a young American, the train- 
ing and the associations of our New England uni- 
versities are better suited than those of old England. 

Dr. Harris has in view the training of young Ameri- 
cans for ambassadorships and consulates and other 
government positions abroad, and thereby promoting 
amicable relations among all English-speaking peo- 
ple; and with this object in view, I have no doubt 
these Oxford scholarships are just the proper thing. 
So, dismissing this view of the case for the present, 
let us consider the subject from a broader standpoint. 

What is a perfect gentleman ? And who is a perfect 
gentleman? Here is an Englishman, Dean Swift — 
he never would allow any man to call him an Irish- 
man — ^who has given the best definition of the conduct 
and conversation of a gentleman which I have ever 
seen. "Good manners," says he, "is the art of making 
other people at ease with whom we converse ; and he 
who makes the fewest people uneasy is the best-bred 
man in the company." 

An excellent observation ; but can this quality be 
acquired .P Or is it a native, inborn quality.? Must 
we go to Oxford or to Cambridge for it ? Is it born 
in universities only? I think not. Some men come 
into the world with it — "built that way" — ^just as 
others are born with "a silver spoon in their mouths." 



Convei'sation of a Gentleman 121 

Lord Holland used to come down to breakfast looking 
like a man who had just received a piece of great 
good news ; while Thomas Carlyle came down looking 
as if he had had an encounter with the devil, who had 
thrown him. These men were "built that way," and 
could hardly act in any other. You feel at ease the 
moment you catch the eye of some persons, while you 
feel uncomfortable the instant you see the face of 
others. But can this good quality be acquired by 
those who have not inherited it? That is the question. 
You see that Dr. Harris thinks that three years at 
Oxford may give one some tinge of it — a confession 
that it may be acquired. It is an enviable, a noble 
quality, one that makes friends of all the world, and 
inevitably leads to success in any career; and I pro- 
pose to show how it may, by young people at least, 
be acquired without going to Oxford for it. 

Suppose a young man — one, let us say, with at least 
a common-school and high-school education — who 
wishes to become possessed of this quality, makes a 
practice of entering the best society he can find — 
suppose he makes a point of talking with well-man- 
nered, educated people, at home and abroad, wherever 
he meets them ; observes their manners, studies their 
character, and marks their style of talking — suppose 
he becomes familiar with the best books in biography, 
history, fiction, and general literature, especially with 
Shakespeare, Moliere, and Walter Scott — suppose he 
becomes a debater and fluent speaker, not to say an 



122 Culture by Conversation 

orator, in literary and other circles — makes a point 
of becoming acquainted with every good writer or 
speaker, every well-informed person within his reach, 
not despising the common people, but valuing knowl- 
edge, good manners, and talent wherever he finds 
them — suppose he becomes a club man or society man 
(not necessarily Society with a big S), and learns the 
habits and manners of good society (not forgetting to 
notice the bad in order to avoid it) — suppose he 
makes it a prime article of his daily practice to please 
people and make them feel comfortable wherever he 
meets them — and, above all, suppose he makes it his 
chief care to make friends among the best and best- 
educated women he can find — then I maintain that 
this young man, whatever qualities he may be born 
with, may acquire the admirable and enviable quality 
we are speaking of, and that the power of putting 
people at ease in conversation will become so natural 
to him that he cannot do otherwise. This above all, 
not only "to thine own self be true," but especially to 
every woman; for the conduct of a man toward 
women is the prime mark of gentlemanliness, or of 
the reverse. Court, therefore, the society of well-bred 
and well-informed women ; for they are the best edu- 
cators in gentlemanliness and good breeding. "A 
good woman," said Lowell to young Dean Howells, in 
conversation, "is the best thing in the world, and a 
man is always the better for honouring women." 
Now, if a man should do all this while still young — 



Conversation of a Gentleman 123 

and by young I mean one who is still learning and 
desirous to learn — why should he not, even if bom in 
a hovel, become a perfect gentleman? Why should 
he not become a charming and entertaining com- 
panion, a pleasing and interesting talker, a suave and 
engaging gentleman that puts every one whom he 
meets at his ease, and makes friends of all with whom 
he talks? Henry Clay was such a man, and we know 
how scanty his education was. He never was at 
Oxford or Cambridge, either in new or in old Eng- 
land; but he studied and observed men as I have 
indicated; and he so schooled himself that he was at 
ease with all the world, with men of all ranks, and all 
the world was at ease with him. And I am sure that 
the poor printer-boy, Benjamin Franklin, who after- 
wards became ambassador to France, and made all 
France in love with him, had schooled himself in a 
similar way. 

Remember, there is a contagion in this thing; for, 
as I have already indicated, one is immediately influ- 
enced by the look or manner of the person one meets ; 
his form and feature announce his character; and 
what makes one feel uneasy is often a consciousness 
that the "other fellow" is uneasy. For the look or 
manner of a person often speaks much faster and 
more significantly than his words. Like the mountain 
echo, which answers good or bad according as it is 
spoken to, most people answer as they are addressed. 
Great men have this contagious power in a high de- 



124 Culture by Conversation 

gree. "No man," said a soldier of his time, "ever 
entered Pitt's (Chatham's) closet without feeling 
himself a braver man when he came out," But all 
men have this power in some degree. Lowell felt this 
so strongly that he gave eloquent utterance to it : 

Be noble, and the nobleness that lies 

In other men, sleeping, though not dead. 

Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. 

Furthermore, you must make a practice of drawing 
people out, especially the timid ones ; and never give 
occasion for those "awkward pauses" which are so 
embarrassing in conversation. You must let others 
talk more than yourself, if they feel so inclined, and 
speak only when they are silent. 

The English say "it needs three generations to make 
a gentleman." Perhaps it does among them; there 
are such awfully ungentle as well as gentle folks 
among them ; but it sometimes happens that the man 
of the first generation is the finest gentleman of the 
three. Wherein was the son of Count Egmont or the 
son of Lord Chesterfield like his father.? or the son of 
Edmund Burke.? or the son of John Howard? What 
a frightful monster was Commodus, the son of that 
fine gentleman, the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.? And 
what murderous wretches the sons of Constantine the 
Great were ! So much depends on the native character 
of the man himself, on his will, energy, and industry, 
that heredity does not always count. If fine example 



Conversation of a Gentleman 125 

plays unconsciously such an important part in the 
moulding of a man, why may not such example, con- 
sciously observed and admired, have a still deeper in- 
fluence? Why may we not consciously observe and 
practise good manners so as to make them "second 
nature" ? When told that "habit was second nature," 
"Second nature!" said the Duke of Wellington, 
"twenty times second nature !" 

The common people among the English are noted 
for shyness and awkwardness in the presence of rank 
and wealth; they are embarrassed by over-due re- 
spect for those above them in the social scale* Ameri- 
cans, from the nature of their social and political 
institutions, which recognise the equality of all men, 
are generally free from this slavish feeling. What 
have we to do with titles or ancestry, with the fore- 
fathers or foremothers of any manP Wherein is the 
man himself entitled to special respect or disrespect 
because of the virtue of his father or grandfather? 
Nothing but native merit or high character, uncom- 
mon talent or heroic achievement, on the part of the 
man himself, is or should be reverenced by us. Only 
a slave or a savage worships the accidental distinction 
of birth. "Some men," says Sydney Smith, "are like 
growing potatoes: the best part of them is under- 
grounds" 

It is said that King Edward VII., when Prince of 
Wales, was never more charmed with the conversation 
of any person than with that of a well-bred young 



126 Culture by Conversation 

American lady, who spoke to him as she would have 
spoken to any other well-bred gentleman, with perfect 
frankness and freedom, and quite as much at her ease 
as if she were talking to her equal. And was she not 
his equal, in the proper sense of the word? His Royal 
Highness was well-born and well-bred; so was she. 
And with her he enjoyed a draught of the freedom of 
American air, which, in the social sense, was quite 
new and refreshing to him ; so that the Prince was 
charmed with the conversation of the American lady. 
An English lady would have shown such marked defer- 
ence to his Royal Highness, such studied care of every 
word she uttered, that freedom and ease in conversa- 
tion, spontaneity of thought and expression, would 
have been out of the question. The fetters of caste 
and etiquette would have paralysed her tongue and 
cowed her spirit, so that she could neither speak nor 
think freely in his presence** 

I think that this quality of being at ease and putting 
others at ease in conversation is something like the 
attainment of ease in public speaking.^* At first the 
young orator is shy and embarrassed, timid and over- 
anxious in the presence of an audience; but gradu- 
ally, by practice and experience, he comes to see and 
feel that an audience is simply a collection of indi- 
viduals, with any one of whom he could, separately, 
talk with perfect ease ; and why should he not do the 
same when they are all together? So he finally talks 
to an audience with the same unconscious ease with 



Conversation of a Gentleman 127 

which he talks to individuals. It is the old story: 
practice makes perfect ; and any intelligent man may 
become a master in this art, as in the other, if he will 
only take the trouble to do so. 

How quick, alert, and ready of speech the city boy 
is as compared with the country boy! What makes 
the difference? Practice — daily, hourly practice 
among his fellows. Yet, though the country boy has 
often only fields and flowers and dumb animals to com- 
mune with, he has other advantages which more than 
counterbalance those of the city boy — he has time 
for observation, thought, study, expansion ; he has the 
best chance for physical and intellectual growth; he 
grows naturally into a strong, vigorous manhood. 
Observe that nearly all our greatest men were born 
and bred in the country ; but it was in the city where 
their powers bloomed and blossomed and bore fruit. 
They had acquired such a strong constitution that 
they soon outran their city competitors. 

There are many examples to show that this enviable 
quality we are speaking of may be acquired. The 
finest gentleman and most charming converser of his 
day, Chesterfield, confesses that in his youth he was 
so reserved and shy that he dreaded nothing more than 
entering a drawing-room full of society people, and 
here he remained dumb for a long time ; until finally 
he summoned up courage enough to say to one of the 
ladies : "It is a fine day, madam." "Yes, indeed, it is," 
she replied and went on conversing with him until she 



128 Culture hy Conversation 

made him forget himself and talk very pleasantly. 
Such was the beginning of the man who became "the 
most polished gentleman in England." 

Sydney Smith, the most genial talker and witty diner- 
out of his time, was so shy and self-conscious in his 
early years, that he used to crumble his bread at din- 
ner-parties ("with both hands if a Bishop were in the 
company"), and feel so intolerably uncomfortable 
that he wished himself invisible ; but, as he himself 
tells us, he soon discovered that "all the world was not 
thinking of him," and so he overcame the foolish feel- 
ing. So it was with many others. Like the stage- 
fright of the young actor or actress, it is overcome by 
repeated attempts to succeed. Even Charles Lamb, 
one of the most pleasant companions and bright, 
cheerful talkers of his time, was exceedingly timid and 
diffident in early manhood; and yet he attained such 
ease and self-possession, such a talent for putting peo- 
ple at ease and "setting the table in a roar," that, 
notwithstanding his stutter, he became a charming 
talker. All who knew him loved him, and spoke of 
him as "the gentle Charles," whose talk, with all its 
quips and quiddities, was the most pleasant they had 
ever known. 



CHAPTER XIII 

VARIOUS KINDS OF TALKERS. CITY AND COUNTRY 

PEOPLE 

"The world's a theatre ; the earth a stage. 
Which God and Nature do with actors fill." 

— Apology for Actors. 

Solitary employment in the fields, with no living com- 
panions but cattle and creeping things, is not favour- 
able to the development of conversational powers. 
"Nature's journeymen," the tillers of the soil, are not 
noted for their fluency in talk. I cannot help think- 
ing that Peacock's descriptions of the range of a coun- 
try gentleman's ideas as "nearly commensurate with 
that of the great King Nebuchadnezzar when he was 
turned out to grass" is a capital hit. But, of course, 
there are country gentlemen and country gentlemen, 
and many of them are far superior to city gentlemen. 
When Sydney Smith, a wit, diner-out, and popular 
preacher, was "suddenly caught up and transported 
by the Archbishop of York" to a living in a village 
of Yorkshire, where there had not been a resident 
clergyman for one hundred and fifty years, he found 
"ample occupation to be the true secret of happi- 
ness ;" and after describing his many occupations as 
village pastor, village magistrate, village doctor, 



130 Culture hy Conversation 

apothecary, schoolmaster, farmer, and Edinburgh 
reviewer, he winds up with the declaration that "if, 
with a pleasant wife, three children, and many 
friends who wish me well, I cannot be happy, I am a 
silly, foolish fellow, and what becomes of me is of no 
consequence." Yet he declares that he means to come 
to London once a year, though of such London visits 
he says he will doubtless "soon be weary, finding my 
mind growing weaker and weaker, and my acquaint- 
ances gradually falling off." So that Sydney Smith 
showed that an intellectual man, even a wit and diner- 
out, can, if he be anxious to do good and to be of ser- 
vice to his fellow-men, be happy in the country. 

Coleridge tells a good story of a silent rustic to whom 
he talked eloquently for half an hour or more. As the 
countryman listened and held his tongue, the poet 
thought him a wise man, who knew good talk when he 
heard it; for Coleridge loved a good listener, who 
would let him talk without interruption. So, as the 
countryman never opened his mouth, but merely 
nodded and smiled, the great talker thought much 
of him, and set forth his views in all their fulness. 
Arriving at an inn, they both sat down to dinner, 
Coleridge talking all the time in his best style. At 
last, when dumplings came upon the table, his appre- 
ciative listener broke silence, and exclaimed in great 
glee: 

"Aha ! them's the j ockey s for me !" 

The old man eloquent suddenly awoke as if from a 



Various Kinds of Talkers 131 

dream, and taking up his hat, departed in silence, 
forming doubtless new reflections on the ancient 
proverb, "Speech is silver, but silence is gold." Did 
not Solomon say, long ago, "Even a fool, when he 
holdeth his peace, is counted wise"? 

Max Miiller declares that there are peasants in Eng- 
land who seldom use more than four or five hundred 
words. Their ideas are probably even more limited 
than their words. When Thoreau asked his solitary 
wood-chopper friend, whom he had not seen for four 
or five months, whether he had not got a new idea since 
he had last seen him, "Good Lord!" said he, "a man 
who works as hard as I do, if he does not forget the 
ideas he has had, will do well !" This was probably the 
most brilliant remark he had ever made, and it is per- 
haps no less true than clever. 

To poets and painters (who, by the way, generally 
live in cities), communion with Nature may be inspir- 
ing; but she seems little inspiring to the children of 
the soil, who have seldom much to say of her. 

Dr. MahafFy fared better with country people than 
either Coleridge or Thoreau. "I remember," says he, 
"seeing a stupid young man probed by an intelligent 
person, till it accidentally came out that he knew all 
about the wild cattle in Lord Tankerville's park, when 
from that moment he took the lead in the conversa- 
tion, and excited a most interesting discussion, in 
which several very dull country farmers took an ani- 
mated part." That "intelligent person" was probably 



132 Culture by Co7iversation 

the doctor himself, who had a skilful way of drawing 
people out. 

Want of society and social recreation is depressing. 
Insanity is said to be more common among country 
people than among those of the city. I have read 
somewhere of a Western settler's wife, who declared 
she "could stand the attacks of Indians and wild 
beasts, the terrors of rattlesnakes and the brutality of 
a drunken husband; but the awful and everlasting 
silence and solitude of the prairie were more than she 
could endure." 

It is good to be alone, or to be alone with Nature, 
at times ; but we must not have too much of this rural 
solitude. City people, being at the centre of intelli- 
gence, have always some new thing to talk about, 
which keeps them alert and alive ; while country peo- 
ple, living where nothing changes except the weather 
and the crops, go through the same old routine every 
day of the year, and have nothing new to think of. 
The Athenians, it will be remembered, spent their time 
"in nothing else but to hear or to tell some new thing." 
The ideal of a man of culture is to live part of the 
year in the city and part in the country — to have a 
town-house and a country-house. For an all-round 
development and a full enjoyment of life, this seems 
the best way of living; but not every man can com- 
mand such a luxury. The English nobility are fortu- 
nate in this respect. 

It is a queer thing this communing with Nature. The 



Various Kinds of Talkers 133 

vastness of landscape scenery, with boundless plains 
and limitless stretches of view, and the silence and 
lonesomeness all around, seem to have an annihilating 
effect on the mind of some men. It puts their think- 
ing powers asleep. All is still, silent, speechless, and 
the observer sinks unconsciously into the same state. 
He thinks of nothing, does nothing, and lets every- 
thing have its way ; and yet he may feel an inexpress- 
ible joy in it. But it is not the place for concentra- 
tion of thought or for intellectual work. Most au- 
thors find that a spot within four walls is more fa- 
vourable for composition than the open country. 
"I find my best working hours," said Emerson, "in 
some New York hotel or country inn, where no one 
knows or can find me. There one finds one's self." 
Buckle, who was an omnivorous reader and tireless 
worker, always found refreshment in good talk at his 
club, or in chess-playing; never in journeys to the 
country. 

Although Lord Byron was passionately fond of 
Nature in all her forms and moods, and drew strength 
from her wherever he went, he took good care to get 
within four walls, and generally four narrow walls, 
whenever he began to compose. He said he could not 
compose in a large room; nor could he in the fields; 
nor anywhere else except when alone and undisturbed. 

Sydney Smith said that "in the country he always 
feared creation would expire before tea-time!" and 
on another occasion he said that "country life was 



134 Culture by Conversation 

very good — in fact the very best In the world — for 
cattle!" 

"Lamb once came to see us," says Hazlitt ; "where he 
was like 'the most capricious poet Ovid among the 
Goths.' The country people thought him an oddity, 
and did not understand his jokes. It would be strange 
if they did; for he did not make any remark worth 
noting while he stayed among them. But when he 
crossed the country to Oxford, then he talked a little ; 
he and the old collegians were hail-fellows well met; 
and in the quadrangle he 'walked gowned.' " 

Nor did Dr. Johnson or Madame de Stael care a pin 
for the country or the beauties of Nature. What they 
delighted In was good company, good conversation, 
and good dinners. Ruskin, on the other hand, loved 
Nature as well as art, could live in the country as well 
as in the city ; and he advised a young friend "to rest 
In changed thoughts as much as possible ; to get out 
on the green banks and brows and think of nothing 
but what the winds and waves say." Hobbes thought 
that with a good library at hand, he could work well 
and enjoy life in the country; but he found that "In 
the country, in long time, for want of good conversa- 
tion, one's understanding and invention contract a 
moss upon them, like an old paling on an orchard," 
and he returned to the city. 

So it seems that on the whole, for thinkers and liter- 
ary workers, poets and artists, the city is the best 
place to think and work in, the country to rest and 



Vmious Kinds of Talkers 135 

relax in. In the country, all Nature seems to be con- 
stantly saying: "Go slow; take your time; be quiet; 
rest!" 

In conversation, as in everything else, practice is the 
chief thing; and precisely as silence and solitude 
stiflPen the tongue and rust the mind, so does inter- 
course with the world lubricate the tongue and polish 
the mind. Long disuse will make one forget even his 
mother tongue. It is one of the mistakes of Defoe 
that he makes Robinson Crusoe, after two or three 
years of solitude, not only remember his native tongue, 
but one or two foreign ones which he had learned in 
his youth. This is contrary to all experience. I have 
read of a man who, after long residence among the 
savages of Africa, was actually unable, on his return 
home, to understand his own mother ! 

Not only does want of use cause loss of power, but a 
loss of inclination to use what power one has. I knew 
a gentleman who, once quite a society man and good 
talker, became, from long home-keeping, quite averse 
to society, and disinclined to talk. He hated to be 
taken out of his den ; found himself ill at ease in soci- 
ety ; and cared for no companionship but his books. 
And I found, when I did get him out of his den, that 
his tongue had lost its cunning; for he talked awk- 
wardly, and after the first flash or two subsided into 
silence. With all his book knowledge, he contrasted 
badly with the facile man of the world, who, accus- 
tomed to good society, chats in that light, airy way, 



136 Culture by Conversation 

"from grave to gay, from lively to severe," which 
charms all listeners. 

A teacher of ability once said to me : "I don't know 
how it is, but among the people I meet at public tables 
and summer resorts I am always outstripped, over- 
shadowed, in conversation." The reason was plain. 
This man had spent most of his time in silent study 
and thought, while they had been practising conversa- 
tion in business and in social life all their lives. 

Not all well-informed, well-read, or bright-minded 
men are good talkers. Some from lack of repose, 
others from self -consciousness, still others from illogi- 
calness, or, as Dr. Holmes terms it, "jerkiness," are 
unbearable. Dr. Holmes, on this point, says : 

There are men whom it weakens one to talk with 
an hour more than a day's fasting would do. They 
are the talkers who have what might be called jerky 
minds. Their thoughts do not run in the natural 
order of sequence. They say bright things on all 
possible subjects; but their zig-zags rack you to 
death. After a jolting half hour with one of these 
jerky companions, talking with a dull friend affords 
great relief. 

At the other extreme from the man with the jerky 
mind, but almost as wearisome, is the man of one 
idea or of one theme. Here is a good illustration of 
this from the Little Chronicle: 

"Will you go over to call on Mr. and Mrs. Clarkson 
with me?" asked Mrs. Laird of her son Ned. 



Various Kinds of Talkers 137 

"Please excuse me, mother. I don't feel equal to 
hearing any more about Mexico to-day. I had as 
large a dose as I can digest at present when the Clark- 
sons were here." 

"Why, Ned !" remonstrated Mrs. Laird. 

"Now, mother, you know yourself that Mr. Clark- 
son never talks about anything but Mexico. I am 
interested in Mexico, of course, but I must confess 
that it tires me to listen to a monologue on the subject 
every few days." 

"I'll admit that my attention wanders at times when 
Mr. Clarkson gives us so many details of Mexican 
life," said Mrs. Laird. "But I realise that he is deeply 
interested in everything concerning that part of our 
continent, where he has lived and studied so many 
years, and I feel that it is only courteous to listen to 
him." 

"Didn't it ever occur to you, mother, that it is 
scarcely courteous of him to assume that we are as 
deeply interested in his one topic of conversation as 
he is? It seems to me that if he were really polite, he 
would allow people to talk about something they were 
interested in, once in a while at least. You know that 
no subject is ever introduced that doesn't remind him 
of some Mexican phase of life, or some experience he 
has had there. The other day when you were trying 
to tell his wife about those poor people you are help- 
ing, he interrupted you to describe the condition of the 
poor in the City of Mexico. You never had a chance 
to finish your story, nor did Mrs. Clarkson have an 
opportunity to offer you any aid for your protegees. 
Do you know, mother, all I could think of at the time 
was a fish taking the bait and running away with it. 
You accidentally gave him a theme and he swam off 



138 Culture by Conversation 

into a Mexican discourse that lasted the length of the 
caU." 

"Oh, Ned," laughed Mrs. Laird, "you are too severe 
upon him." 

"Well, maybe I am, but I know one thing: that a 
person with a hobby shouldn't ride it too hard, if he 
wants to be an agreeable companion. Deliver me, I 
say, from the man with one idea." 

Another wearisome talker is the self-conceited, pom- 
pous utterer of truisms. And the worst of it is that 
such a talker announces his self-evident remarks as if 
he were uttering new and oracular truths. Dr. 
Maginn tells a story of a Londoner of this sort, whom 
he hits off very nicely, although the poor fellow didn't 
see it. The doctor was sitting one day in a coffee- 
house in the Strand, when an elderly gentleman came 
in, sat down opposite him, bowed very politely to him, 
and then, putting on his spectacles and looking over 
the Times, in which he found a column of business 
failures, exclaimed, in a grave manner: 

"Forty failures ! Well, I have observed during my 
sixty years' experience that any man who lives be- 
yond his income is sure to fail at last !" 

"True, very true," said Maginn ; "and I have noticed 
during my thirty years' experience that any man 
who walks out in the Strand on a rainy day without 
an umbrella is sure to get wet !" 

"Most true," said the elderly gentleman, "most true ; 
I like to listen to sensible conversation." 



Various Kinds of Talkers 139 

There are persons who think highly of the professed 
raconteur, or getter off of "good things" ; but what 
he "gets off" is not really conversation at all, but a 
species of monologue. He does not care to exchange 
ideas with you : he has none to exchange ; all he wants 
is to astonish you and please himself with his "good 
story." He is usually an egotist, who gets off his 
"good thing" more to show what a clever fellow he is 
than anything else. And then he is so long about it ; 
he brings in every unnecessary little detail to heighten 
the effect ; and his delight is to watch the effect of the 
explosion at the end. " 'Take a seat,' said Jones to 
me," he begins, "as I entered the room with my cane in 
one hand and my hat in the other; 'take a seat; sit 
down; make yourself at home.' And he pushed a 
chair toward me, which I accepted, and sat down be- 
side him. I sat in a large plush-covered chair; he in 
an old-fashioned arm-chair, with a high back. Cross- 
ing one leg over the other, and taking out his cigar- 
case, he handed it to me ; I took one, and handed it back ; 
and after I had lit my cigar, he seized the match I 
used, tried to light his cigar with it, but failed to do 
so; then, seizing another match, he struck it on the 
heel of his boot, and thus succeeded in lighting his 
cheroot. Then he stretched himself out in his chair; 
looked bland and complacent ; put his foot on the back 
of a chair, pulled out his handkerchief, wiped his fore- 
head, blew his nose, and puffed away at his cigar ; then 
he continued to remark in a drawling tone : 'It is quite 



140 Culture by Conversation 

warm to-day ; quite warm indeed ; and that cold wave 
has not come yet; well I suppose it never will come; 
but we shall welcome it when it does come, won't we, 
eh? Well, as I was saying," etc., etc. 

And so he goes on for ten mortal minutes with his 
little nothings, just like the tiresome novel writers, 
before he comes to the point. What are the chairs 
and the cigars and the matches and the nose-blowing 
and the weather to me? He thinks he is, like a 
painter, giving a graphic picture of a wonderful 
scene, and exhibiting the skill of an artist. I have 
sometimes got so provoked with these long-winded 
palaverers that I have cried out with impatience, 
"Pray, sir, drop the accessories, and telj me plainly 
what Jones said to you !" But that was the end of the 
"good thing" to me. 

De Quincey thus sharply describes the raconteur: 

Of all the bores whom man in his folly hesitates to 
hang, and whom Heaven in its mysterious wisdom 
suffers to propagate their species, the most insuffer- 
able is the teller of "good stories" — a nuisance that 
should be put down by cudgelling, by submersion in 
horseponds, or by any mode of abatement, as sum- 
marily as men would combine to suffocate a vampire 
or a mad dog. 

De Quincey may have had in mind in this strong de- 
nunciation of the teller of "good stories" the man who 
delights in the narration of vicious or wicked stories, 
a person who should be despised by all men of culture. 



Various Kinds of Talkers 141 

I shall never forget what old Dr. Ryland said to young 
John Jay : "In my youth," said he, "my imagination 
was corrupted in conversation by evil images, and I 
shall never get them out of my head until I am under 
the sod." 

The professed raconteur and the professed jester are 
birds of a feather; they should be shut up in a cage 
together. Somebody has well said, "It is good to jest 
even in trade, but not to make a trade of jesting." 
But if the jester does not make a trade of jesting, his 
occupation is gone. He must even in the very pres- 
ence of death shake his cap and bells, and, like Gay, 
perpetrate an irreverent jest even on his tombstone: 

Life is a jest, and all things show it: 
I thought so once, and now I know it. 

Lastly there are taciturn men whom it is impossible 
to draw into conversation by any device whatever. Sir 
Walter Scott tells a good story of his friend William 
Clerk, who was an excellent talker, and whose portrait 
Sir Walter drew in the character of Darsie Latimer in 
"Red Gauntlet." Clerk had been talking to a 
stranger in a stage-coach, and had expressed his 
thoughts to him in his usual full and fluent manner, 
without eliciting anything from his listener. At last 
Clerk thus addressed him : 

"Now, my friend, I have talked to you on all ordi- 
nary subjects — literature, farming, merchandise, 
gaming, game-laws, horse-races, suits-at-law, politics, 



142 Couture by Conversation 

swindling, blasphemy, and philosophy — is there any 
one subject that you will favour me by opening 
upon?" 

"Sir," replied the inscrutable stranger, "can you say 
anything clever about bend-leather?" 



CHAPTER XIV 

SOME PROFITABLE TALKERS. INFLUENCE OF WOMEN 

"Das Ewig-Weibliche zicht uns hinan." 

— Ooethe. 

One who has some acquaintance with artists, inventors, 
or connoisseurs in any art need not be a great reader 
in order to be a well-informed man ; he may, on special 
subjects, learn more from their conversation than he 
can from a hundred books ; and though his knowledge 
may not be so exact, it will probably be more com- 
pletely assimilated, more practical and more thor- 
oughly his own than that of the reading man. For 
he who acquires knowledge in this way assists in the 
making of it ; he causes it to spring from suggestion 
and remark, from occasion and circumstance, and par- 
ticipates in the production of it. Nor need it be at 
all a one-sided affair ; for a good listener or questioner 
is often quite as useful to the talker as to the hearer — 
he brings out the talker and causes him to grow and 
expand in his views and ideas. And this does as much 
good to the talker as to his hearer. Then, when one 
wishes to get further or more exact information on 
the subject talked of, this is the time to consult books 
and fortify one's knowledge. 



144 Culture by Conversation 

I knew a gentleman, a leader-writer on a metropoli- 
tan newspaper, who used to make a practice of invit- 
ing to his table every Sunday some gentleman of spe- 
cial acquirements or peculiar experiences, some scien- 
tist or traveller, explorer or litterateur, artist or manu- 
facturer, from whose conversation he learned more in 
one hour than he could in many hours' reading. Be- 
sides, the knowledge of these men was up to date, and 
they knew the latest thing in their peculiar art or pro- 
fession. My friend valued their conversation not only 
for what they told him, but also for what they sug- 
gested ; they stirred his own mind to thought, and thus 
gave him new subjects to think on and to write on; 
they supplied him with food for his brain and material 
for his pen. 

Nor was there anything wrong or selfish in this ; for 
he was himself a brilliant talker, full of new and strik- 
ing thoughts ; fiery and furious in his denunciation of 
shams and humbugs, and full of anecdote and story 
concerning the men and women whom he had known. 
So that he furnished his guests with quite as much, or 
rather with much more, knowledge than he received 
from any of them. He inspired his guests to talk by 
his example ; and they inspired him with new thoughts 
by what they said. Especially was this the case when 
the table was cleared and coffee and cigars were pro- 
duced; then each one found his tongue and talked 
freely and frankly ; the spirit of wit and humour came 
into play, and each gave free vent to every fancy or 



Some Profitable Talkers 145 

thought that occurred to him. Here, too, was char- 
acter displayed, aims and motives freely avowed, and 
the whole soul laid bare, much to the amusement or edi- 
fication of all the others. 

Many are the advantages of wealth, especially to him 
who knows how to use it; and this last, wining and 
dining whom you please, is one of them. Another is 
that of being able to keep a good secretary, one ca- 
pable of reading to you, and giving you in conversa- 
tion a good summary or digest of the things you want 
to know ; of the newest books, of what is going on in 
the world, and so on. To have such a man at your 
elbow, to whom you can say at any moment, "Read 
that book, and tell me what is in it ;" or, "Look over 
the monthly magazines, and tell me what they contain 
this month ;" or, "What has the Times or the Tribune 
to say this morning.'^" or "What news from Japan or 
South Africa?" — this, I say, is a princely privilege. 
It is the only "royal road to knowledge" that I know 
of ; for he who can command it is a king among men., 
It gives him two or three pair of eyes, two or three 
pair of hands, and forty years more of life ; in fact, 
it enables him to live two or three ordinary lives. 
What a saving of mind, memory and eyesight, too, in 
being thus relieved of all the chaff and dust of litera- 
ture, and served only with the wheat ! Was it not thus 
that those giant-working statesmen, Cavour, Palmer- 
ston, Gladstone and Bismarck, got through so much 
work and acquired such intimate knowledge of what 



146 Culture by Conversation 

was going on in the world? Palmerston declared at a 
public dinner, "I never read any printed book." He 
learned everything from the debates, documents and 
conversations of the men he knew. The great Napo- 
leon kept three secretaries constantly at work. These 
great men had the art of learning everything from 
those they talked with. 

It is said that if a man makes one real friend in a 
lifetime he is fortunate. Probably he is ; and if that 
friend be a woman, a noble, high-minded, intelligent 
woman, he is doubly fortunate ; for the benefits he may 
derive from her will be not only material but intellec- 
tual ; not only physical but spiritual ; not only elevat- 
ing but ennobling ; not only polishing but perfecting. 
Lowell speaks of "God's noblest work — a perfect 
woman ;" and the perf ecter of man is woman. "Be ye 
perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect," is Christ's 
command. All noble men have loved and esteemed 
women* Bad men don't; they corrupt and degrade 
them. The whole life of a man depends upon what 
kind of a wife he gets ; for she will either make or mar 
him. Of that you may be sure. If she have a noble 
nature, she will ennoble him ; but if not, she will de- 
grade him. Remember Walter Bagehot's wise and 
witty saying : "A man's mother may be his misfortune ; 
but his wife is his fault." 

Nothing cultivates, refines, ennobles like the conversa- 
tion of an accomplished, high-minded woman. No 
man, however extensive his knowledge, will ever, with- 



Some Profitable Talkers 147 

out considerable intercourse with well-bred women, be- 
come an accomplished or pleasing talker ; for without 
this polishing, inspiring influence he will always retain 
something of the original barbarian about him. "If 
you would know what is proper or becoming," says 
Goethe, "you must converse with noble women." Nor 
is it at all necessary that such a woman should be 
literary or bookish. Remember Shakespeare's women. 

Something of woman's lightness and delicacy of 
touch, of her quickness of perception and gentleness 
of manner, is necessary to every man who wishes to 
succeed in social or business life. Women generally 
have far more tact, patience, and perception than men, 
and in social affairs their instincts are unerring. I 
remember reading of a gentleman in straitened cir- 
cumstances who, on taking leave of a young lady, said 
he was going by the round-the-lake way. "Oh," said 
she, "perhaps you haven't change for the ferry ; let 
me supply you till you return." Few men could have 
acted so skilfully in such a delicate case. Remember 
the French saying, "Les femmes devinent tout." 

Miss Charlotte Cushman, the famous actress, thus 
describes an interview with an accomplished woman, of 
whom and of her husband much has been written of 
late: "On Sunday who should come, self-invited, to 
meet me but Mrs. Thomas Carlyle! She came at one 
o'clock and stayed until eight. And such a day I 
have not hitherto known! Clever, witty, calm, cool, 
unsmiling, unsparing, a raconteur unparalleled, a 



148 Culture by Conversation 

manner inimitable, a behaviour scrupulous, and a 
power invincible — a combination rare and strange 
exists in that plain yet keen, attractive unescapable 
woman ! Oh, I must tell you of that day, for I cannot 
write it ! After we left, of course we talked about her 
until the small hours of the morning." 

And then, when Miss Cushman afterward saw her 
at her own house, and heard the majestic utterances of 
her gifted husband, she describes Mrs. Carlyle as 
"quiet and silent, assiduously renewing his cup of tea, 
or by an occasional nod or judicious note, struck just 
at the right moment, keeping the giant going, as if 
she wielded his mighty imagination at her pleasure, 
and evoked the thunder and the sunshine at her will." 
For a woman who was herself a brilliant talker, full 
of knowledge of the world, of quaint wit and true wis- 
dom, this self-abnegation is truly admirable. Thomas 
Carlyle was nothing until he married her, and did 
nothing after he lost her. 

How much the poets are indebted to women for their 
inspiration! How much Dante owed to Beatrice, 
Petrarch to Laura, Burns to his Highland Mary, 
Goethe to Frau von Stein, Cowper to Lady Austin ! 
How much John Stuart Mill owed to Mrs. Taylor, 
Chateaubriand to Madame Recamier, and a host of 
writers to Madame de Stael ! Who can tell how much 
these men of genius were influenced by such admirable 
women ! Mill married the woman he admired as soon 
as he could do so, lived in an elysium with her for many 



Sovie Profitable Talkers 149 

years, and then worshipped her as a saint after her 
death. The one bright spot in Lessing's hard life was 
his happy union with the woman whose conversation 
was his greatest source of comfort and inspiration; 
the years he lived with her were almost the only happy 
years of his life, and the year after her death the most 
unhappy. What chivalric devotion Steele paid to his 
charming Prue, and what delightful letters she in- 
spired him to write ! But for her he would have been 
much less of a man than he was. Never were the 
estimable qualities of women more highly prized than 
they were by Richard Steele, whose declaration that 
"to have known Lady Hastings was a liberal educa- 
tion" is one of the finest compliments ever paid to a 
woman. Shakespeare has given us many lovely 
women, and said many admirable things about them; 
but he has said nothing that surpasses this. Let me 
quote one passage, however, which must have de- 
lighted Steele, if he ever saw it : 

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: 
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; 
They are the books, the arts, the academes, 
That show, contain, and nourish all the world; 
Else none at all in aught proves excellent. 

Shakespeare's heroines are among the most admirable 
women in literature. In fact, he has, as Ruskin says, 
hardly any heroes, only heroines ; and when the men 
get tangled up in all sorts of difficulties, it is the 
women who show them the way out ! "Who," says Dr. 



150 Culture by Conversation 

John Lord, "that has written poetry that future ages 
will sing ; who that has sculptured marble that seems 
to live ; who that has declared the saving truths of an 
unfathomable religion — has not been stimulated to la- 
bour and duty by the women with whom he has lived 
in intimacy, with mutual admiration and respect!" 
The wise Socrates declared, more than 2,000 years ago, 
that "woman, once made equal with man, becomes his 
superior" ; and I have repeatedly had occasion to see 
this in those cases where women, put into the places of 
men as principals of schools, have proved themselves 
in every way far superior to men.* 

*I would earnestly recommend to any young man who wishes 
to make the acquaintance of noble women and make the most 
of life, to read Mrs. Jameson's "Characteristics of Shake- 
speare's Women," and then read the plays in which they ap- 
pear. This reading will not only enlighten and ennoble his 
mind and heart, but enrich his knowledge of good language and 
good manners. "Shakespeare," says Emerson, "was easily the 
first gentleman in England." 

We know almost nothing of the life of Shakespeare, but 
surely he must have known many noble women to have por- 
trayed so enchantingly such charming specimens of womankind. 
»So with Scott and Dickens and Thackeray. And what a crowd 
of poets have been inspired and animated during their whole 
lives by their love of women! There's Dante, whose love of 
Beatrice, a lovely young gentlewoman who died early, left 
such a profound and ineradicable impression on him that 
he resolved to devote his whole great poem to her memory; 
there's Tasso, whose love of Leonora d'Este was his chief 
inspiration in writing his great epic, "Jerusalem Delivered"; 
there's Surrey, that chivalrous and noble young English poet, 
the first to write English verse in the iambic measure, whose 



Sovie Profitable Talkers 151 

How a woman may charm even her own sex in con- 
versation is shown in the following story, which I read 
forty years ago in the old Saturday Evening Post, a 
story which I have never forgotten : 

"I met in my mountain home," says Miss H. E. 
Sears, "a character, not a mere singularity or a pass- 
ing nonentity, moulded of common clay ; but a char- 
acter, resembling rather enduring marble, carved by 
noble artistic power; or, I should say, built up of 
precious stones into an edifice of surpassing loveliness. 
Do you think it was an heiress or a princess? Or 
one who had enjoyed all the advantages of rank and 
fortune? Oh, no; it was only an elderly lady from 
whom every vestige of youth and physical beauty had 
fled ; but the light of her mild blue eye, which kindled 
as she spoke, showed that the internal and intellectual 
fires still burned brightly, and that notwithstanding 
her many years of toil, care, and trouble, she had 
learned, from the kings and prophets of literature, 
how to overcome them all, and still charm those whom 
she met. 

"Conversation ! How came she to be so fully mistress 

love of the fair Geraldine inspired all his fine sonnets; there's 
Petrarch, whose whole poetic muse was inspired by his love of 
one noble lady, Laura, whom he loved "too well, but not 
wisely"; there's Burns and Coleridge and Byron and Shelley 
and Poe and Whittier, and a hundred others, many of whose 
most charming poems were inspired by their love and admira- 
tion of women. O woman! how much we owe to thee, and 
yet how ill thy love and care and self-sacrifice have often 
been rewarded! What desecration and sacrilege is committed 
by those greedy capitalists who ruin and murder thousands 
of them, even in childhood, in their abominable factories! 



152 Culture by Conversation 

of the art, as though she had always moved in highly 
polished circles, and studied nothing else all her life? 
She had lived a very secluded life, being one of those 
who are stigmatised as 'old maids,' and having always 
been in moderate circumstances. Yet her silver tones 
fell upon the ear as a sort of enchantment ; her voice, 
modulated to the extreme of culture, stopping short 
of affectation or a studied tone, was soft as the notes 
of a lute. 'It is the perfection of art to imitate 
nature ;' but no ; there can be no art here ; it is only 
nature brought to its highest perfection. And then 
the thoughts in her conversation ! How they welled 
up, clear and brilliant and sparkling, from the depths 
of an elegant and refined mind — what would not a 
fashionable belle give to be able to converse in that 
style! Simple, original, cheerful almost to gaiety, 
her ideas flowed out in freshness, fulness, and variety, 
entirely free from the trivialities and personalities 
which generally make up so large a share of what 
certain people call conversation. Her discourse trans- 
figured her, until I thought that she looked like an 
angel discoursing of heavenly things, while sweet 
peace and content beamed from every feature. 

"How did she acquire that large stock of ideas — 
that store of splendid thoughts? Whence did she 
acquire that rich, varied expression in which she 
clothed her thoughts? The gift of genius? No! 
The result of a noble culture? No! Culture! What 
opportunities had she had for culture? She told me 
herself she had received but little early education, and 
had been obliged to struggle with pecuniary difficulties 
all her life. A homestead was all her fortune; she 
had been actively employed all her life, and had had 
but small leisure for study ; — but the cracks and crev- 



Some Profitable Talkers 153 

ices of life she had filled with reading, — reading in 
our best English literature; poetry, history, travels, 
memoirs, essays, and the better works of fiction ; and 
this it was which enabled her to talk so charmingly^ 
Those unsightly seams and gaps which others leave 
unfilled, or else putty up with petty gossip or tales of 
intrigue and crime, she had filled up with knowledge 
from the 'wells of English undefiled,' affording a cul- 
ture which grows and beautifies with time, forming 
part of that valuable superstructure which she had 
quietly and unambitiously reared, without being aware 
of its splendour or its value. And she loved to com- 
municate what she had learned, and to inspire others 
with a love of the good literature she had studied. 

"When I left that elderly woman, I felt ashamed that 
I had ever been despondent and disheartened because 
I had not genius or high talents to help me on in the 
world. I saw that industry and the proper use of 
time were the great things. . Here was the true cul- 
ture ; it brought her not only a wide acquaintance 
with mankind and the world in general, but peace of 
mind, calm thoughts, and sweet content; it enabled 
her to live a healthy intellectual life, blended with use- 
ful labour and a world of silent, gentle affection, which 
constitutes the glory and perfection of true woman- 
hood." 

What a contrast such a woman is to those women of 
whom it is said: "They have a way of saying every- 
thing and telling nothing ; of saying nothing and tell- 
ing everything !" She had read for knowledge and 
culture, not for mere amusement. What many people 
fail to attain through schools and teachers she had 



154 Culture by Conversation 

supplied through books ; and her intellectual acquire- 
ments had given her a refined grace of manner, a 
speech and conversation, which would have made the 
charm of any society where literature and life were re- 
garded with interest. Her education had been received 
in what Carlyle describes as the best university, "a 
collection of good books." 

Is it not true that beauty lies in the mind, as reflected 
in speech, manner and feature.? Is there any real 
beauty in a dull, ignorant woman, however great her 
physical charms ? Such a woman soon tires and cloys ; 
while the other remains "a joy forever." Michelet 
maintains that "a good wife is a fortune to a man, 
especially if she be poor;" and Richter declares that 
"no man can live innocent or die righteous without a 
wife." 



CHAPTER XV 

TALKS AT THE TWILIGHT CLUB 

"An excellent and well-arranged dinner is the cul- 
minating point of all civilisation." — Chatfield. 

No talent is more admirable than that of the man who 
knows how to touch those hidden springs which set 
quiet and undemonstrative people a-talking — ^those 
taciturn people who never speak except when they are 
spoken to or have something worth telling. There are 
always subjects about which such people can talk most 
interestingly if they can only be induced to speak. 

He who has the power of drawing people out, who 
has that confiding, amiable, and pleasing manner 
which dispels reserve and self-consciousness, which 
puts people at ease and inspires them with speech and 
a willingness to talk, has a master talent, which is as 
rare as it is valuable. In whatever company such a 
man appears, his presence acts like sunshine on plants ; 
every one finds himself expanding with new life, and 
ready to exhibit whatever element of beauty or refine- 
ment there is in him. Touching their minds in that 
light, airy, quickening way which stirs thought and 
recollection, he dispels reserve and inspires confidence ; 
and thus he causes the company to vie with each other 



156 Culture by Conversation 

in telling things that are amusing or instructive, or 
that elucidate whatever subject is discussed. 

I have seen many diffident and taciturn people warmed 
into Hfe under the spell of such an enchanter; seen 
them pour out their thoughts or tell their story in a 
free and off-hand manner before a numerous company ; 
turning themselves inside out, in fact, for the benefit 
of the company. In short, this magical mover of 
souls brings about that fine reciprocity of ideas which 
is the charm of true conversation — a reciprocity by 
which all are enriched and none impoverished, and by 
which each receives more than he gives ; for each one 
receives for his single experience that of all the others, 
and thus obtains a mental and spiritual refreshment 
which cannot be found in any other way. 

The most skilful man of this kind I ever knew is 
Mr. Charles F. Wingate, the Secretary of the New 
York Twilight Club and author of "What Shall Our 
Boys do for a Living?" Never have I known a man 
who can so readily set people a-talking on some sub- 
ject which he himself has started. Not only does 
he lead them to bring forth the best that is in them, 
but he causes them to tell it well and easily, to speak 
with interest and effect. "Er geht mit dem guten Bei- 
spiel voran," as the Germans say, and his hearers 
seem to catch something of his manner and spirit from 
listening to his talk. 

It is well known that some men need only the occa- 
sion or the opportunity in order to display qualities 



Talks at the Twilight Club 157 

or powers unknown even to themselves and unsus- 
pected by their friends, and it is Wingate's delight to 
afford such an occasion and induce them to unfold 
themselves. Well aware of the fact that no man knows 
precisely how much he does know until he begins to 
tell it, and, moreover, that the great art consists in 
showing men how to tell what they do know, how to 
put their experiences into words, and render it inter- 
esting to others, he shows how this is done by 
example. 

Most men, even those well informed, think little of 
what they have learned, and much of what they have 
still to learn ; the field of knowledge constantly widens 
before them, while that which they have gone through 
seems comparatively limited; but it is by showing 
what they know that they learn more, and gain dis- 
tinctness and clearness in the knowledge they have. 
And sometimes a plain man condenses a whole life ex- 
perience in a few spoken sentences. 

At the Twilight Club, whose meetings are always 
accompanied by a dinner, where free talk goes on be- 
fore the set-talks or the speech-making begins, Mr. 
Wingate will go around among the members, while 
they are dining and conversing, and to one he will 
say, in his quiet, winning way : "Look here, Jones, you 
can tell us something of this subject from your expe- 
rience in the army — tell us that story of General Early 
at Winchester which you told me so nicely the other 
day ; you can do that first rate" ; to another he will 



158 Culture by Conversation 

say, "You, Dan Beard, can tell us all about that curi- 
ous circumstance that made you an artist, which will be 
just the thing to illustrate the subject for to-night"; 
and to another, "You can tell us finely, Mr. Quill, 
how editors are made, and what kind of writing is 
most acceptable among the editors to-day," and so on. 
And then he begins himself, in a familiar, easy, con- 
versational way, to show how such things may be told. 

Henry Thomas Buckle says that "men and women 
range themselves into three classes or orders of intel- 
ligence. You can tell the lowest class by their habit of 
always talking about persons; the next by the fact 
that their habit is always to converse about things ; 
the highest by their preference for the discussion of 
ideas." The talks at the Twilight Club were usually 
of things or events illustrating ideas. Even when 
things or persons were the subject, ideas rather than 
either things or persons were meant to be illustrated. 

The first talk I heard at the Twilight Club was on 
the subject "How I Earned my First Dollar;" and 
I never listened to anything so amusing, refreshing, 
and delightful in my life. Laugh? Why, I never 
before had laughed so heartily or had learned so much 
in one evening. The stories told were full of wit and 
humour, generally winding up with a bit of a moral 
— the later acquired wisdom of the speakers — which 
clinched the story. 

Among the practiced speakers ever3rthing is said in 
an easy, ofF-hand way; for in this club there are no 



Talks at the Twilight Chib 159 

set speeches, no special preparations, no notes, no es- 
says, no yams. No one argues or dogmatises or tries 
to make converts ; no one declaims or puts forth prop- 
ositions which he challenges the others to deny ; each 
gives his thought, his experience, or his reflection for 
what it is worth ; simply teUing in plain language what 
he has learned or thought in the course of his experi- 
ence, without insisting on its absolute infallibleness or 
correctness. Thus every member finds in the remarks 
of the others a profitable exchange for his own, some 
food for thought, and a pleasing refreshment of mind 
which no argumentation or disputation could afford. 

What is the Twilight Club? Of whom is it com- 
posed and where does it meet? It is a club of gentle- 
men of nearly every profession, especially lawyers, 
writers, teachers, clergymen, physicians, actors, ar- 
tists and merchants ; men of culture, who love to ex- 
change ideas with each other, and capable of giv- 
ing a reason for the faith that is in them. The club 
meets once a fortnight, at six p.m. sharp, at the 
St. Denis, New York, or at some other hotel, where a 
good table is spread, in large, spacious, and well- 
lighted rooms, and where each member comes from 
business, just as he is, to enjoy the social meal, the 
gathering, the table-talk and the after-dinner 
speeches. It is the freest, easiest and least expensive 
club I know. The dinner costs a dollar or a dollar 
and a half, and there are no other expenses (no as- 
sessments, fines, dues, etc.), except three dollars a 



160 Culture hy Conversation 

year for the printing and posting of the fortnightly 
bulletins, which give a short summary of what was 
said at the previous meeting and announce the time 
and subject of the next. But alas ! Wingate is absent, 
and there is no one to replace him. 

The formation of the club, in 188S, was suggested 
by the remark of Herbert Spencer, at a dinner given 
to him at Delmonico's by his American admirers, that 
"we have had somewhat too much of the gospel of 
work in this country, and need now to substitute 
the gospel of relaxation." Half a dozen journalists, 
who used to dine together in a down-town restaurant, 
whose talks were so pleasant they wished to make a 
regular thing of them, caught at this remark of 
Spencer's and made it their motto. Most of the mem- 
bers are men who have attained some degree of emi- 
nence in their profession, or who have undergone some 
uncommon experience, or won distinction in some 
honourable way. They are of all creeds and opinions, 
men sufficiently liberal to tolerate the views of others, 
and sufficiently able to give a reason for their own. 
Two or three times a year there is a lady's night, at 
which we sometimes hear a woman's view of the ques- 
tion discussed. 

I shall never forget the night on which Mrs. Balling- 
ton Booth told us all about the Salvation Army and 
its admirable work — I think she converted every man 
present that night, most of whom had till then been 
sceptical about the work of the army. 



Talks at the Twilight Club 161 

There are now some eight or nine hundred members, 
although there are seldom above ninety or a hundred 
at one dinner; and several offshoots of the club have 
sprung up in other parts of the country, notably the 
Sunset Club in Chicago and the Six o'Clock Club in 
Washington. But the Twilight meets no more. 

"The fault," says Mr. G. W. Curtis, speaking of the 
club of learned and literary men which met at Emer- 
son's home, and failed after three meetings, "was its 
too great concentration. It was not a relaxation, 
as a club should be, but a tension. Society is a game, 
a play, a tournament, not a battle. It is the easy grace 
of undress ; not an intellectual full-dress parade." 
That is why the Twilight was so successful. It had 
the easy grace of undress. 

At the first dinner at which I was present, Mr. John 
Foord presided — there is, by the way, a different pre- 
siding officer at every meeting — and the brilliant 
flashes of wit and humour, the bonmots and repartees 
that shone forth on that occasion made it a memo- 
rable night for me. It was the first time I had ever 
heard real American after-dinner speaking, and I now 
understood why Americans are famous in this art. A 
gentleman who had taken a fancy to my "Life of Cob- 
bett" had invited me there (by the way, this is one 
of the best things an author's works bring him; he 
makes friends by them) ; and I never enjoyed any- 
thing so much in my life. I had heard nothing like it 
in France or Germany, and only once in England, 



162 Culture by Conversation 

at the Fleet Street Public House discussion. But 
that was heavy in comparison. 

Well, Mr. Foord (formerly editor of the New York 
Times and of the Brooklyn Union and afterward of 
Harper's Weekly), who is a Scotchman, presented a 
living refutation of Sydney Smith's famous saying, 
concerning the "surgical operation necessary to get 
a joke into a Scotchman's head" ; for he was, like Fal- 
stafF, not only witty himself, but the cause of wit in 
others; not only quick to catch any scintillation of 
wit or humour in another, but always ready and able 
to fan it into a flame. In short, I learned more and 
heard more bright things in this club that night than 
I had heard at any other assembly in my life. But to 
reproduce these things is almost like trying to paint 
the rainbow ; the colours fade and disappear while the 
artist is arranging his brushes ; so evanescent, though 
sparkling, is their nature. 

I have never seen and never attempted any extended 
report of the talks at this club; but I have often 
thought that a Boswell might have made a good thing 
of them. 

Nevertheless, although I know that such things will 
appear tame and dull in print as compared with the 
force and snap they have when spoken, I shall attempt 
to give from memory a few specimens of the wit and 
wisdom of the Twilight Club. 

One evening, when the subject was "What do you 
believe.?" the chairman called on Joel Benton, the 



Talks at the Twilight Club 163 

poet laureate of the club, for a statement of the faith 
that was in him, announcing at the same time that 
Mr. Benton had written a "Life of P. T. Barnum" 
in fifteen days. The poet expressed with emphasis the 
opinion that it mattered little what a man believed; 
that the question by which he should be judged, here 
and hereafter, would be, whether he did right, Mr. 
Benton was followed by Robert W. Taylor, now mem- 
ber of Congress from Ohio, who, questioning the 
soundness of Benton's philosophy, gave it as his opin- 
ion that Benton merited salvation neither here nor 
hereafter, because he did write the "Life of P. T. Bar- 
num" in fifteen days ! Of course this pun had to be 
heard to be fully appreciated. 

At a dinner given by the club to Paul Blouet (who 
wrote under the nom de plume of Max O'Rell), Mr. 
George Harrison McAdam, then a member of the New 
York Legislature, was introduced to the assemblage as 
the only politician who was a member of the club. 
Mr. Wingate, in his suggestive way, asked Mr. Mc- 
Adam to elucidate American politics for the benefit 
of the witty Frenchman. Mr. McAdam promptly 
complied, and in a humorous and slightly sarcastic 
vein said that nationalities in American politics, so 
far as New York City was concerned, were curiously 
mixed. Speaking practically, there were but two 
nationalities recognised, the Irish and the Germans. 
Not only were there no Frenchmen in American poli- 
tics, but there were no Simon-pure Americans either. 



164 Culture by Conversation 

The native Americans were too busy making money 
and too haughty to bother with pohtics, and left its 
pursuit in the main to the foreign-born element. 
Paradoxically, the more intelligent classes, in the sense 
of the better educated and wealthier classes, were the 
less intelligent, politically speaking. You could not 
convince a native-born American that any English- 
speaking foreigner was not an Irishman, nor that 
those not speaking English were not all Germans. 
The result was that the few Frenchmen in American 
politics were considered Germans, despite the Franco- 
Prussian War; and that he himself, although a 
Scotchman by descent, was in politics an Irishman. 

In the same discussion, one of the speakers said that 
Republicans could be distinguished from Democrats 
by the location of the "Van" in their names ; those 
having the "Van" at the beginning, the Van-derbilts, 
the Van-rensselaers, etc., were Republicans, while 
those having the "Van" at the end, were Democrats, 
instancing the Sulli-vans, the Dono-vans, etc. ! 

"Are not the Sullivans and Donovans the vanguard 
of Tammany Hall?" cried one. 

"Oh, no ; there is Van Wyck, for instance." 

"Oh, but he is quite vanquished !" 

"Vanished, you mean !" 

"Come, come; no more of such Vanity," said the 
chairman. 

After a sea-story by Captain Codman, who was a 
great sailor and a free-trader, another member, a 



Talks at the Twilight Club 165 

broker, said he was not surprised that the gallant cap- 
tain loved the sea, and Newfoundland, and all about 
it, for you know he is a mem who has something of the 
cod about him ! 

"That reminds me of a story," cried the Captain, 
who was somewhat nettled by this bad pun. "May I 
tell it, Mr. Chairman?" 

"Yes ; if it be a good one." 

Thus encouraged, the irate captain told with great 
gusto this story : 

A broker came to the gate of Heaven one day, and 
meeting St. Peter, was asked what he had done to 
merit heaven. "Why," said the broker, "I once gave 
two cents to a poor widow who needed it badly." 
"What else?" asked St. Peter. "I once bought a 
paper for one cent from a poor newsboy, who also 
needed it badly." "What shall we do with this fel- 
low?" said St. Peter. "Oh, give him back his three 
cents," said St. Paul, "and tell him to go to — Hades." 

This Captain Codman was a gruff fellow, with a de- 
termined yet kindly look; and although he was the 
last man you would take to have any literary tastes 
or talents, he was the author of several books, mostly 
about his own experiences as a sailor. He was a great 
chum of S. S. Packard, the business college man, an- 
other wit of the club, and had something of the hu- 
mour of David Harum about him. Codman had at- 
tended Amherst College for two years, and, being 
rusticated on a cooked-up charge, had taken to the 



166 Culture by Conversation 

sea, and had followed it for thirty years. At one of 
the meetings he said "his little Latin and less Greek 
had been useful to him ; it was like being vaccinated — 
you may not feel it, but it is there all the same, and 
does you a heap of good!" He spoke of the office- 
holders as an "army of tariff tramps, who had crept 
into the national almshouse to seek further protection!" 
When discussing ghosts, he attributed them in most 
cases to had livers; and where people had had warnings 
of disasters, they usually forgot to allow for the dif- 
ference of longitude. Referring to his early education, 
he said his father had taught him what was the chief 
end of a boy, but not of a man, because he did not 
know that himself. Boys who work their way through 
college make the best timber, and he would limit free 
instruction to the three R's. The best Boston families 
were founded by old shipmasters, and not by college 
graduates. Out of his own class of seventy, there 
were only two who had not degenerated into mere law- 
yers, doctors or clergymen ! 

The Captain spun many yarns about his early hfe 
at sea. Once, when in charge of a transport char- 
tered by Turkey, her engine broke down, and to keep 
the fact from the officials, he invited them on board, 
entertained them in the cabin, told the mate to start 
the donkey engine, and sailed down the Bosphorous 
to a place where he could make repairs without a 
suspicion that everything was not "shipshape and 
Bristol fashion." 



Talks at the Twilight Club 167 

Another time he brought home a tea ship from 
China, discharged the men at New York, and hired 
a scrub crew to take her to Boston. They were a 
tough lot, and the next morning refused to holy-stone 
the decks. The Captain, who was perfectly fearless, 
called them together and asked, "What's the row.?" 
The ringleader, a strapping, scowling bully, said: 
"Washing decks wasn't in the contract." "Well, what 
is.'"' replied the captain cheerfully. The man replied, 
"To make sail, steer ship, hoist anchor," etc. "Very 
good," said Codman, and he jotted down the list and 
read it aloud. The men nodded, "All right." "Then, 
Mr. Mate," said the doughty Captain, "you can let go 
the anchor (thirty fathoms), and we will keep hauling 
it in and dropping it again until these gentlemen are 
satisfied." The crew saw the point. They were cor- 
nered so skilfully that they had to laugh, and they 
washed down the decks without another word. 

When one member stated in a talk on wine and to- 
bacco that abstaining from tobacco certainly length- 
ened life, another replied: 

"Yes, that is true, for I remember that when I tried 
to give it up the days seemed to be forty hours long 1" 
"Besides," continued the speaker, "this thing, to- 
bacco, seems to be very curious in its effect ; for while 
I can with a cigar in my mouth think on any sub- 
ject whatever, without it I can think of nothing but 
a cigar!" 

Another member told a story of a young man who 



168 Culture by Conversation 

was very sick, and whose doctor requested him to 
change his mode of living; to go to a quiet country 
place, eat more roast beef, drink beef tea and smoke 
just one cigar a day. The young man did as ad- 
vised, and when, a month later, he met the doctor, the 
latter complimented him on his improved appearance. 

"Yes," said the young man, "I feel better, and I 
am better. I went to bed early, ate more roast beef, 
spent a month in the country, and took great care of 
myself; but that one cigar a day nearly killed me, 
for I had never smoked before !" 

This was about as good as the declaration of the 
Irishman who told the doctor that his medicines had 
made him sick for a long time after he got well ! 

Another member who contended that a dinner with- 
out wine was like meat without salt, and that a little 
wine inclined men to good fellowship and good humor, 
told this story: When Robert Chambers, the founder 
of Chambers^ Journal, met Sydney Smith in Lon- 
don, he said to him, "You have been in Scotland, Mr. 
Smith, and you must know that the Scotch have a 
good deal of humour in them." "Oh, yes," said Syd- 
ney Smith, "the Scotch are a very funny people, and 
have a good deal of humour ; but the fact is they need 
a little operating upon to get it out; and I know no 
better instrument for this purpose than the cork- 
screw !" Sydney Smith was great on operations ; for 
it seems he could not get a joke in or out of a Scotch- 
man's head without an operation of some sort ! 



Talks at the Twilight Club 169 

A new member, an Englishman, who was asked to 
speak, said with great embarrassment: "I can't make 
a speech, but I can tell a story. An Englishman, 
who had recently arrived in New York, wanted to take 
a sleigh-ride, and went into a livery stable to hire 
a rig. The proprietor called up to a man in 
a loft, 'Tom, bring down two buffaloes !' 'Really,' 
stuttered the Englishman, 'I haven't been long enough 
in the country to drive two buffaloes ;' and so, Mr. 
Chairman, I haven't been long enough in the Twi- 
light Club to make a speech!" The story was so 
apt and told so modestly that it made a great 
hit. 

When the writer, in a discussion on education, had 
spoken in high terms of the schools in Germany, where 
he had studied and taught for years, and in which he 
declared the teachers laid great stress on logical think- 
ing and little on the memorising of facts, and where 
languages, literature, history and mathematics were 
taught with great thoroughness, Mr. Dan Beard, the 
artist, replied: 

"Well, I have been through the Civil War, and have 
seen a good deal of Germans, Americans, Irishmen 
and men of other nations ; and I have nearly always 
found that when some special piece of work was to 
be done, that the American, with perhaps little more 
education than he had picked up in the streets, would 
go to work and do the thing while the German was 
thinking about it." 



170 Culture by Conversation 

I thought this a good example of the practical and 
progressive genius of American youth. 

One gentleman began his remarks in this wise : "This 
discussion reminds me of a certain youngster, the 
son of a horse-dealer, who, when a horse was to be 
sold, rode him in fine style, displaying all his good 
points; but when a horse was to be bought, he rode 
him in quite a different fashion. One day the young- 
ster had mounted a horse before he knew whether it 
was to be bought or sold ; so, rfding up to his father, 
he whispered to him: 'Say, pop, is this horse to be 
bought or sold.'" So I am inclined to think the speak- 
ers to-night are like this youngster; they have been 
asked beforehand by the adroit and shrewd secretary 
whether they have a horse to be bought or sold, and 
have spoken accordingly. But my horse is of a dif- 
ferent colour!" So he went on with his horse, re- 
gardless of his selling or buying qualities. I could 
not help thinking this story would have had a telling 
effect if told by the opposing lawyer, after one of 
Counsellor Nolan's addresses to a jury, in which he 
had spoken for five minutes before he found out he 
was speaking on the wrong side, and then unblush- 
ingly turned his speech on the other ! 

Another gentleman made a very happy beginning 
in this wise: 

"Mr. Chairman, the question has been so thoroughly 
thrashed out by the other speakers that I feel myself in 
the position of a certain Irishman who came to Dub- 



Talks at the Twilight Club 171 

lin from a distant part of the county to sec a bar- 
rister about the making of his will. The will was 
drawn up, signed, witnessed and sealed, and the Irish- 
man departed for his home quite happy. About a 
week afterward he returned, and, calling at the bar- 
rister's house very early in the morning, he rapped 
loudly at his door. Getting up, the barrister thrust 
his head out of the window and called out: 'Who's 
there.''' 'It's me, yer honour, Patrick Finnerty,' called 
out the man. 'I have come to see you about the will !' 
'What's the matter with the will.?' 'Faith, I have for- 
gotten in it all about meself ; I have given away every- 
thing and left meself not even a three-legged stool to 
sit upon !' " 

"Now, Mr. Chairman," continued the speaker, 
"these gentlemen have said so much about this sub- 
ject they have not left me even a leg to stand upon! 
However, one point they have forgotten," and so he 
went on with his one point. When a speaker once 
makes a good beginning and gets his audience in a 
good humour, all he has to say is cheerfully listened to. 
The Chairman usually introduced each speaker with 
some terse or piquant remark, characterising the 
speaker in some way. I shall never forget the way 
in which one chairman, a witty New York lawyer, 
introduced a rival of the same cloth by declaring 
that "he was a man of fluent speech, whose utterances 
always reminded him of a walk in the autumnal woods, 
where the withered fagots cracked under his feet, the 



172 Culture by Conversation 

sere and yellow leaves were abundant, and the chest- 
nuts were falling fast!'* 

Nothing, however, could surpass the good nature with 
which all these sallies were taken ; for if a speaker only 
makes his audience laugh while keeping within the 
bounds of propriety, everything in the way of banter 
or sarcasm is readily pardoned. One member, though 
a poet and prose writer of no small ability, was usually 
made the butt of the wits and satirists of the club ; and 
yet he always bobbed up serenely, replying good- 
naturedly to all attacks ; and I verily believe he is more 
tenderly loved than any other member of the club. 

On one occasion, when Max O'Rell was one of the 
guests, and the subject was : "What books have helped 
me?" Max declared that the only book that had 
helped him was "John Bull and His Island!" "One 
day," continued the speaker, "I happened to sit down 
near two ladies in a London Metropolitan car, when 
I heard one say to the other, *What do you think of 
this book everybody is talking about, "John Bull and 
His Island".?' 'Not much,' replied the other; 'what 
can you expect of an Irishman, anyway.?' " 

Max declared that this book, which had not only 
enriched him, but had made him an author and lec- 
turer, was the outcome of notes on English life, j otted 
down while he was working as a teacher of French in 
London, and which he used to read to his wife, who 
induced him to make a book of them. The manuscript 
of this book, perhaps the most successful of his time, 



Talks at the Twilight Club 173 

he had offered to a score of publishers before he found 
one who ventured to publish it. 

Another member quoted Reynolds's advice: "Never 
depend upon your genius ; if 3^ou have talent, industry 
will improve it ; if you have none, industry will supply 
the deficiency." If Reynolds could say this of in- 
dustry, what industrious man cannot succeed.'* 

In a talk on Money and Income, one gentleman, a 
well-known newspaper writer, began thus : 

Some years ago I was travelling to the West, when 
I struck up acquaintance with a gentleman on the 
train, with whom I had a good deal of interesting con- 
versation. On separating, I said to him: "Now, tell 
me frankly, my friend, what is your aim in life?" 
"Well, sir," said he, "my aim is simply this : I want to 
make money enough to be able to say to any man 
living, 'Go to h— U' !" "Now," said the speaker, "this 
man simply expressed in a rough way a wish that is 
dear to every American — the desire of personal inde- 
pendence. Among intelligent thinking men, money is 
not sought to make a display of wealth, and all that ; 
but in order to be independent. It must be a Scotch 
wish, too ; for I never saw it so forcibly expressed as 
in Bums's lines to a young friend : 

" 'To court Dame Fortune, assiduous wait upon her, 
And gather gear by all the wiles that's justified by 

honour : 
Not for to hide it in a hedge, or for a train attendant, 
But for the glorious privilege of being independent.' " 

At a dinner where the subject of "Turning Points 
in Life" was discussed, an eccentric gentleman, for- 



174 Culture by Conversation 

merly a clergyman but now a lawyer, expressed his 
disbelief in religious "turning points," meaning 
thereby so-called "conversions ;" repudiating the idea 
that religion had the slightest influence on a man's 
business conduct, declaring that no man with such a 
creed had ever made any impression on his times. A 
noted Jersey lawyer then got at him, alluding to him 
as a "Tammany politician." The eccentric ex-divine 
declared he had never seen the inside of Tammany Hall. 
So he begged for an opportunity to say a few words in 
reply. This being granted, he said substantially: "I 
do not object to being called a pickpocket, a falsifier, 
or even a Tammany lawyer; but I do object to having 
anybody intimate that I ever was a Republican !" In- 
stantly the Jersey lawyer was on his feet and begged 
to be allowed to say "two words — only two words." 
When this was granted, the Jerseyman exclaimed, with 
great emphasis, "Thank God!" and sat down amid 
laughter and tumultuous applause. 

But retorts of this character were seldom indulged 
in at the Twilight Club, the wit generally being en- 
tirely of an impersonal nature; and was always 
good-humoured. For instance, on one occasion a 
speaker said that though he was by accident foreign 
born, he was by choice an American citizen, and 
proud of it — so proud of it that while on a visit 
to his native land, where he had been off*ered the 
nomination for a seat in the House of Commons, 
in a district where he was sure of being elected, he 



Talks at the Twilight Club 175 

declined it, preferring to remain an American citizen. 
This same New Jersey lawyer, who was opposed to 
the previous speaker in politics, arose and asked the 
presiding officer for leave to make a motion, which, 
being granted, he moved that "the Twilight Club 
send a cable message of congratulations to the House 
of Commons !" This lawyer was Col. Fuller. 

One night when some labour question was up, John 
Swinton, who had recently returned from Europe, 
made such a strong and stirring address, recounting 
the movements of the masses of working men in 
Europe, that one gentleman was so deeply moved and 
touched by his address, he exclaimed to a friend, "Let 
us go now, for fear that other speakers destroy the 
impression" ; but he did not and could not go. Swin- 
ton spoke like one inspired on this occasion. 

On another occasion Mr. James Redpath, who was 
one of the best speakers at the Club, gave a remark- 
able account of the able writers and speakers whom 
he had known while acting as manager of a Lecture 
Bureau. I shall never forget that address. When 
he was speaking you could hear a pin drop ; every 
one was so attentive. He told, for instance, about 
Wendell Phillips, how that he (Phillips) was going 
to speak to a few Irishmen and said that the lecture 
would not be worth reporting. But Redpath found 
that that lecture was one of the most brilliant of the 
course, and it stands to-day among the best of his 
printed addresses. 



176 Culture by Conversation 

As I cannot make a full report of any one speech, 
perhaps the best I can do is to quote the following 
clever report (by a correspondent of the Chicago 
Inter-Ocean) of a speech delivered at a sister club, 
which has always strongly reminded me of the speeches 
at the Twilight. It may serve, at any rate, as an 
amusing specimen of after-dinner speaking: 

I was at a Lotos Club dinner recently, when a pretty 
well-known journalist, being called on for "a speech! 
a speech !" after the uproarious habit of that intel- 
lectual circus, rose and told a story. "It might be 
called," said he, with a sly look at the head of the 
table, where sat in presidential majesty a rather corpu- 
lent, slightly bald, middle-aged man, "it might be 
called 'How I Got Into a Magazine.' " Then he 
changed to the other foot, blushed slightly, leaned on 
his fork, and said : 

"I had an article once which I thought would make 
six pages in a magazine — if it got a chance. I con- 
cluded to give the Atlantic Monthly the benefit of it, 
because that was a superb creation of the human intel- 
lect and ought to be encouraged. [Smiles and raps 
on the table.] I sent it to that periodical, saying that 
it was my maiden effort, and asking the editor to send 
me the $100 by draft or money order. In three weeks 
it came back, to my utter amazement, with the printed 
notice that it was excellent, but not adapted, etc. I 
saw that the editor of the Atlantic was a fool. [Cheers 
around the table and cries of satirical approval.] I 
sent it to another well-known magazine, offering it 
for $50. It came back in two months, just when I 
was looking for it to appear. That magazine, too, 



Talks at the Twilight Club 177 

was evidently a failure! I then sent it (price $15) 
to a first-class weekly that printed just such things as 
my sketch, *Mary Wanley's Guide,' but not half as 
well written. [Cheers and encouraging remarks.] 
Again it was sent back. [Laughter.] I could not 
understand it. I could not believe that our periodical 
literature was decaying so fast. I offered it to an- 
other journalist for nothing, telling him that I was a 
beginner, that this was the first effort of the sort I had 
ever offered to anybody, and I watched his face as 
he examined it suspiciously, and finally returned it to 
me, saying that the style was faulty ; the idea was 
good, though it might have been used heretofore ; but 
with study and careful practice I would make, per- 
haps, in time, etc. [Laughter.] 

"I was mad, gentlemen !" said the speaker, amid the 
roars of the company, and, leaning on the chair with 
his other hand, he went on: "Something heroic must 
be done ! Two years had passed. It was now 1871. I 
resolved to storm the citadel. I borrowed my brother's 
sealskin overcoat, so as to look as imposing as possible, 
and struck for an illustrated magazine I had not tried, 
one of the finest works of art in the world. The door- 
keeper stood briskly aside as I went in and asked for 
the editor, whose name I did not then know. I was 
speedily ushered into the presence of a young man, 
who asked me to be seated, and inquired my business. 
'To see the editor.' He would examine my manu- 
script. 'Very well,' I said, still standing. 'I must 
have an answer in fifteen minutes, as I leave on the 
next train for Boston.' He parleyed, but I was severe 
and taciturn, and reached for the manuscript which 

he had taken. 'I will see Mr. ,' said he, naming 

the editor himself. The latter appeared. 'We will 



178 Culture by Conversation 

send this to you by mail,' said he, 'if it is not used.' 
*I can leave it with you only fifteen minutes,' I replied. 
He looked surprised and glanced at the title. 'You 
can surely leave it one night,' he expostulated. 'No,' 
I rejoined resolutely, 'I have other uses for it.' In 
that I suppose he scented the opposition house, for he 
took off his overcoat (he was just going home) and 
said: 'I will look it over now.' [Cheers around the 
table.] 

"He was a fine-looking man, as he sat there in the 
dying twihght [cries of "Oh!" "Ah!"]— a rather 
corpulent, slightly bald, middle-aged man [at this the 
company turned toward the presiding officer, who was 
as red as a boiled lobster, and then they roared with 
glee], and he looked up in about ten minutes, and 
said : 'I will take this story ; Mr. Oliver, please make 
out a cheque for $50.' 'What?' I asked, '$50.? My 
price is $125.' 'Ah !' said he, passing the manuscript 
to me, 'it is more than we ever pay anybody, except 
famous writers.' I delivered a stately bow, took the 
roll of paper, and turned out of the door. 'Well!' 
said he, calling to me, 'we'll take it at $125 ;' and 
Mr. Oliver made out my cheque. [Cheers and roars of 
laughter. The man at the head of the table had 
turned a sort of indigo blue.] 

"The worst of it is, or the best of it," said the nar- 
rator, "that I have not seen or heard of that sketch 
during all these seven years !" 

The club hall rang with cheers and laughter, for his 
manner of telling the story was indescribably droll, 
and then all parties turned toward the presiding of- 
ficer, who was recognised as the hero of the narrative. 

He rose slowly to his feet ; the blue went out of his 
face, and even the scarlet turned to the rosy flush 



Talks at the Twilight Club 179 

which is habitual to it, and he smiled cheerfully by the 
time the cheers and guffaws which greeted him had 
died away. 

"The fact is," he began deprecatingly, and then 
there was another great roar of laughter. "Yes ; I 
well remember the circumstances. I accepted the 
sketch to keep its writer from inflicting it on some 
weaker magazine. [Loud laughter.] Our house is 
rich. It can aff^ord to stand in the breach. If it were 
not for the work we do in burying articles capable of 
injury, the mortality among magazines would be in- 
calculable. [Laughter and cheers.] Yes, gentlemen, 
when a person with a flighty temperament comes in 
[laughter], we exert every nerve to get possession of 
his manuscript, to prevent the desolation that might 
otherwise ensue. [Cheers and jingling of glasses.] 
Such an article might fall into the hands of men who 
might inadvertently print it ! [Cheers and cries of 
"Hear, hear !"] We lock it up in a strong safe." 

The company, led by the journalist, who blushed 
again at his awkward position, then drank to the pros- 
perity of the sagacious magazine, while the editor 
went on seriously to say that he had eight immense 
fireproof safes full of stories and other manuscripts 
that had been bought and paid for, some of the matter 
extending back many years. "If nobody should write 
a word for the body of our magazine for the next ten 
years," he said, "it would appear regularly every 
month, and I doubt if its quality would be at all im- 
paired." 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE CONVERSATION OF AUTHORS 

•* The business of life is mainly carried on by this difficult 
art of literature, and according to a man's proficiency in that art 
shall be the freedom and fulness of his intercourse with other 
men." — R. L. Stevenson. 

I HAVE heard it said and seen it written that authors 
are generally dull fellows in conversation ; and I have 
also heard it said that if there is any author whose 
works you particularly admire, you should never try 
to make his personal acquaintance ; for if you do you 
will be disappointed. Now this is all nonsense. No 
sensible person expects an author to talk like his books. 
If he did he would be a bore. His books are the results 
of patient thought, of inspired moments, and of much 
pains; and we do not expect all this in the common 
conversation of any man. 

And as to their being poor talkers, I have known a 
good many authors and never knew one that was not 
a good talker. Precisely as "a jest's prosperity lies in 
the ear of him that hears it," so is the talk of an au- 
thor. Everything depends upon the person who 
listens to his talk. With uncongenial company an 
author is apt to be silent ; but with those who can ap- 
preciate him no man can talk better. And why not.^ 
Is it not his business, his dehght to express thought.? 



The Conversation of Authors 181 

And does he not know that with every thought he ex- 
presses forty others spring up in its place? 

Some say that authors keep their best thoughts for 
their books. Well, some may do so. But when a man 
sits down to talk to a friend, he will, if he be a man 
at all, express the best that is in him, without keeping 
anything back. He never thinks of his books ; or if 
he does, it is only to express verbally what he has al- 
ready written. Nor does he care or fear that any man 
may borrow his thought. The original thinker knows 
that the more thought he expresses, the more he has to 
express ; that the world of thought is boundless, in- 
exhaustible ; and that no man can express his thought 
as he can himself. If it be genuine, it is sure to be im- 
pressive; for imitation is sure to look counterfeit. 
When a man attempts to put his thought on paper it 
must, if it be of any value at all, be the result of his 
own cogitations, his own experience; otherwise it is 
sure to be unprofitable. So it is with his talk, which 
is often more interesting than his writing. The best 
an author can do with another's thought is to quote 
it as confirmatory of his own, or of what he wishes 
to enforce or prove. Of course, many of his thoughts 
may have been uttered by others ; but as he never knew 
these, and does not consciously imitate them, his 
thoughts are as original with him as theirs were with 
them, and probably quite as well expressed. 

Let us see what is said of the talk of authors by those 
who knew them. I need not mention the universal 



182 Culture by Conversation 

testimony to the brilliant talk of Sheridan, Macaulay, 
Coleridge, Voltaire, Mme. de Stael, Byron, Sydney 
Smith and Goethe; these are too well known; but I 
shall glance at some of those of whom it is said they 
were poor talkers. Goldsmith, for instance, is re- 
ported to have been almost idiotic in his talk ; and here 
is one of the evidences given to prove it. One Cooke, 
who had been a law student and near neighbour of 
Goldsmith's in the Temple, was asked by Rogers, the 
poet, what Goldsmith really was in conversation. 
"Sir," said Cooke, "he was a fool. The right word 
never came to him. If you gave him back a bad shil- 
ling, he would say: 'Why, it's as good a shilling as 
ever was bom.' You know he ought to have said 
coined. Coined, sir, never entered his head. He was 
a fool, sir." What a fine proof this is of Goldsmith 
being a fool! I think it shows pretty clearly that 
Cooke was one. The latter seems to have been a law- 
yer, and many lawyers are mere word quibblers, inca- 
pable of humour. Born, in this case, was simply 
Goldsmith's humour; an expression such as may be 
heard among Irishmen every day. Shakespeare makes 
Jack Cade say: "Salad was born to do me good." 
Was Jack Cade or the author of "Henry VI." a fool? 
Goldsmith never attempted to put his fine style and 
wise thoughts in his conversation ; these were for his 
publisher, who paid for them; and he reserved his 
chaff for such fellows as Cooke, who thought an au- 
thor should talk "like a book." Let me give a couple 



The Conversation of Authors 183 

more of his foolish utterances. When, one day at 
Sir Joshua Reynolds's, he said he thought he could 
write a good fable ; that this kind of composition re- 
quired great simplicity of language ; and that in most 
fables the animals introduced seldom spoke in char- 
acter, Dr. Johnson burst out in uproarious laughter. 
"Why, doctor," said Goldsmith, "this is not so easy as 
you seem to think ; for if you now were to make little 
fishes talk, they would talk Kke whales!" Was not 
that a foolish remark? 

When, at an Academy dinner, a Swiss named Moser 
interrupted Goldsmith by saying : "Hush, hush ! Toe- 
tor Shonson is going to zay someding!" Goldsmith 
retorted : "And are you sure you will comprehend what 
he says.?" That, too, was spoken like a fool, I sup- 
pose. Even in boyhood he was capable of a retort 
worthy of Pope himself. When, after his recovery 
from the smallpox, a thoughtless and notorious scape- 
grace said to him: "Why, Noll, you are quite a 
fright ! When do you mean to get handsome again .?" 
Oliver replied : "I mean to improve, sir, when you do !" 
And when, at one of the country dances, little Oliver 
jumped up and danced a little pas seul, the fiddler, 
struck by his ungainly appearance, exclaimed: 
"JEsop!" which elicited a roar of laughter. Then 
Oliver, turning and looking disdainfully at his assail- 
ant, said in an audible voice : 

Heralds, proclaim aloud this saying. 

See iEsop dancing, and his Monkey playing! 



184 Culture by Conversation 

This is the man who is set down as a fool in con- 
versation, as one who "wrote Hke an angel and talked 
like poor Poll!" This was Garrick's saying, and I 
think it may be answered by Foote. "Good Heavens, 
Mr. Foote," exclaimed a lively actress at the Hay- 
market ; "what a humdrum kind of a man Mr. Gold- 
smith appears to be in our green-room compared with 
the figure he makes in his poetry !" "The reason of 
that, madam," rephed the wit, "is because the Muses 
are better companions than the Players !" 

Who that knows anything of Goldsmith can fail to 
see that in his usually simple, good-natured talk many 
a pleasant bit of humour, many a sensible thought, 
must have been uttered by him. I suppose it was be- 
cause Johnson was a better talker than writer and 
Goldsmith a better writer than talker, that the one 
suffered by comparison with the other. But I would 
rather listen to the simple prattle of Goldsmith than 
to the learned and dogmatic utterances of Johnson; 
at least Goldy would, I am sure, have been far more 
amusing to me. Is it not a pleasant thing to find a 
man of genius, a poet and unequalled prose writer, to 
be a simple and plain man in his talk? That to 
me is delightful. Your great talker, who gets off 
stunning things, and monopolises the time and 
attention of the company, is usually an egotist and 
a bore. 

And your very learned talker, like Johnson, who 
thought he was always in the right, or your essay- 



The Conversation of Authors 185 

producing talker, like Macaulay, who monopolised the 
attention of the company, would never be tolerated in 
good society to-day. Even in the time of Johnson 
the French could not endure such a talker. 

A good illustration of this is shown in the following 
story. The Marquis St. Lambert once introduced to 
the salon of Mme. Geoffrin an author of considerable 
learning and ability, who, after attending her recep- 
tions for some months, was informed one day by the 
servant at the door that madame could not see him. 
"Is she ill.?" "No, sir." "Gone out.?" "No, sir." 
"Why, I see M. Diderot and the Abbe Dehlle at the 
window; surely you must be mistaken." "Sir, I beg 
ten thousand pardons ; but madame cannot see you." 
The learned gentleman wended his way to his patron, 
who, after hearing his complaint, handed him the fol- 
lowing note from Mme. Geoffrin : 

My Dear Marquis: I close my doors on your 
learned protege. Monsieur B ; because, as it hap- 
pens, I am still a little attached to life — thanks to 
your friendship and that of the accomplished few who 
resemble you — and if I should see him often, I should 

be vexed to death. Your Monsieur B is, in short, 

intolerable : he is always i/n the right. 

It is not good to be over-wise or over-knowing ; nor is 
it good to be absolutely infallible. Solomon says we 
must not be even over-religious. The story goes that 

the learned Monsieur B took the lesson to heart, 

and profited so well by it that, after a time, he was 



186 Culture by Conversation 

reinvited and readmitted to the receptions of the dis- 
tinguished Frenchwoman. 

By the way, these receptions of cultivated people in 
France are very fountains of inspiration to the French 
author. It is here that he comes in contact with the 
intelligence of the world, and gets ideas which he 
works up in a literary form. The worldlings cannot 
do this; they enjoy the talk as it flows; and the au- 
thor contributes as much to it as they do; but he 
crystallises some of it in a shape that only a man of 
genius is capable of. Sometimes he gets a hint which 
supplies him with material for a story or a poem; 
sometimes he learns a fact which gives rise to an 
essay or a criticism ; and sometimes he is supplied with 
incidents which he works up into a comedy or a 
tragedy. 

Moliere, after his introduction to the brilliant com- 
pany who met at the Hotel de Rambouillet, declared 
that he needed no longer to study classic authors ; he 
had the world before him, and all manner of trag- 
edies and comedies constantly exhibited before his 
eyes. 

Conversation with intelligent people, with the ac- 
tive, thinking, progressive spirits of the day, is to 
the French author food for his brain and nerve for 
his arm. Nor is any man more welcome in French 
society than a good writer; the French know how to 
esteem and honour such a man. 

The talk of an author, like that of any other man, 



The Convei'sation of Authors 187 

may be largely tinctured by the nature of his occupa- 
tion or by the peculiar tendencies of his mind; but 
it is not necessarily bookish. Mr. G. A. Sala, who 
knew Dickens well, thus speaks of his conversation: 

Dickens seldom talked at length on literature, and 
very rarely said anything about art. What he liked 
to talk about was the latest new piece at the theatre, 
the latest exciting trial or police case, the latest social 
craze or social swindle, and especially the latest mur- 
der or the newest thing in ghosts. He delighted to 
tell short droll stories, and occasionally to indulge in 
comic similes, and to draw waggish parallels. He 
frequently touched on political subjects — always 
from what was then a strong Radical point of view; 
but his conversation, I am bound to say, once for all, 
did not rise above the amusing talk of a shrewd, clever 
man of the world, with the heartiest hatred of shams 
and humbugs. 

This is just what I should expect; for surely no man 
would expect the novelist to be as moving and spell- 
binding in his talk as he is in his books. 

There probably never was a more entertaining and 
instructive talker than Henry Thomas Buckle, the 
well-known author of the "History of Civilisation." 
It was not merely his boundless knowledge, his fine 
command of language, and his wonderful memory, but 
the interesting and striking things he had to tell, and 
the way he had of telling things, with the conclusions 
he drew from them, that made his talk so interesting. 
"The only advantage of knowing facts," he says him- 



188 Culture by Conversation 

self, "is the possibility of drawing conclusions from 
them — in other words, of rising to the idea, the prin- 
ciple, the law which governs them;" so that "real 
knowledge consists not in an acquaintance with facts, 
which only makes a pedant, but in the use of facts, 
which makes a philosopher." 

And of literature — not only of English, but of 
French and German literature, together with the an- 
cient classical — he had such a wide and intimate 
knowledge that his mind glowed with the noblest pas- 
sages in each, and he would sometimes inspire all 
listeners with the forcible and eloquent manner in 
which he would cite and repeat some of them in illus- 
tration or confirmation of some truth he was enforc- 
ing. Although this sounds or seems Macaulayish, he 
was in other respects quite different ; for he knew when 
to stop, was a good listener, and always ready to an- 
swer questions. Wherever he went he was sure to leave 
a pleasant impression, sure to give more pleasure or 
more information than he received. 

"Buckle," says a writer in the Atlantic Monthly 
(April, 1863), who met him at dinner in Egypt, 
"talks with a velocity and a fulness that is wonderful. 
The rest could do little but listen and ask questions. 
And yet he did not seem to be lecturing ; the streams 
of his conversation flowed along easily and naturally. 
Nor was it didactic; the range of his reading had 
covered everything in elegant literature, as well as the 
ponderous works whose titles make so formidable a 
list at the beginning of his History ; and as he re- 



The Conversation of Authors 189 

members everything he has read, he can produce his 
stores upon the moment for the illustration of any 
subject that may turn up. He told anecdotes, too, of 
Johnson, Lamb, Macaulay, Voltaire, Talleyrand, and 
Wordsworth, and he quoted passages from Burke and 
Junius at length and in exact words." 

Buckle's nature was anything but that of a recluse. 
"The brilliancy of Mr. Buckle's conversation," says 
one of his friends, "was well known in the social world ; 
but what the world did not know is how entirely it 
was the same among a few intimate friends. For his 
talk with them was as fascinating as it was at a large 
party, with whom success meant celebrity." 



CHAPTER XVII 

SOMETHING MORE ABOUT THE TALK OF AUTHORS 

"The pleasant things in the world are pleasant 
thoughts, and the great art in life is to have as many 
of them as possible." — C. N. Bovee, 

But let us return for a moment to some of the au- 
thors who were said to be poor talkers. Butler, the 
author of "Hudibras," is another of these. The chief 
characteristic of this satiric poem is the patient, care- 
ful, conscientious labour and skill with which it is 
worked out. "Hudibras" came out in three parts, at 
three different times ; and probably some persons ex- 
pected the author to show the whole of it at once in 
half an hour's talk. This is apparently what Lord 
Dorset (not Charles II., as falsely reported) ex- 
pected of him ; for it is stated that at a tavern, where 
a meeting was arranged between them, Butler was 
"quiet and reserved during the first bottle ; full of wit 
and spirit during the second ; and dull and stupid dur- 
ing the third," whereupon his lordship's comment 
was that "the poet was like a ninepin, great in the 
middle, but small at both ends." 

This was witty, and I have no doubt that his lord- 
ship thought himself much wittier than the poet. 



3Iore About the Talk of Authors 191 

Weil, who would not be dull and stupid after the 
third bottle of port? Butler was not a "three-bottle 
man," like Fielding's fox-hunting parsons and coun- 
try gentlemen, but a quiet, scholarly gentleman, 
whom Selden found good company, and who, like 
all other sensible men, could talk better sober than 
drunk. 

Another of these dull fellows is Addison, the silent, 
shy, sensitive author of the Spectator, whose writ- 
ings gained him the friendship of Lord Halifax and 
the position of Secretary of State. In a large as- 
sembly, where a certain lady reproached him for his 
silence, "Madam," said he, "I have little small change ; 
but I can draw for a thousand pounds." So he could, 
with both tongue and pen ; for Steele and others who 
knew him well declared that among intimate friends 
he was excellent company, full of life and talk. Was 
he not the friend of the most eminent men of the time, 
and loved by all who knew him? That is, by all ex- 
cept Pope, the envious little Pope, who hated any 
one that rivalled him in public favour. Compared 
with the fashionable people of his day Addison was 
one in a hundred thousand, a man of delicate taste 
and refined thought, and it is no wonder he could not 
be brilliant among the rough, uncultivated gentry of 
his age. 

No author can talk well except in congenial com- 
pany and to sympathetic hearers. "When one meets 
his mate, society begins," says Emerson; and Fichte 



192 Culture by Conversation 

declared that in conversation he "could succeed only 
with brave good people." In other company the 
author sometimes feels as if a frost had come over 
him, which he is powerless to remove. Not every 
one can, like Coleridge, be free from annoyance in 
the company of vulgar people, regarding them as 
objects of amusement, of another race altogether. 
Shakespeare, as we have seen, could do this, and so 
could Scott ; but how many such men are to be found.'' 
Schopenhauer thus sharply (and, as I think, some- 
what cynically) describes the common people in their 
intercourse with men of genius : 

The Pythagorean principle that "Hke is known only 
by like" is in many respects a true one. It explains 
how it is that every man understands his fellow only 
in so far as he resembles him, or, at least, is of a similar 
character. What one man is sure of perceiving in 
another is that which is common to all, namely, the 
vulgar, petty, or mean elements of our nature: here 
every man has a perfect understanding of his fellows ; 
but the advantage which an intellectual man has over 
another does not exist for the other, who, be the tal- 
ents in question as extraordinary as they may, will 
never see anything beyond what he possesses himself, 
for the very good reason that this is all that he wants 
to see. If there is anything on which he is in doubt, 
it will give him a vague sense of fear, mixed with 
pique; because it passes his comprehension, and is 
therefore uncongenial to him. [I suppose this is the 
reason why Shakespeare was unnoticed in his time.] 
This is the reason why mind alone understands mind ; 



More About the Talk of Authors 193 

why works of genius are fully understood and valued 
only by men of genius, and why it must necessarily 
be a long time before such men attract the attention 
of the crowd, for whom they will never, in any true 
sense, exist. 

This, too, is why one man will look another in the 
face with the impudent assurance that he will never see 
there anything but a miserable resemblance of himself ; 
and this is just what he will see, as he cannot grasp 
anything beyond it. Hence the bold way in which 
one man will contradict another. Finally, it is for 
the same reason that great superiority of mind isolates 
a man, and that men of high gifts keep themselves 
from the vulgar (and that means every one) ; for if 
they mingle with the crowd, they can communicate 
only such pai*ts of them as they share with the crowd, 
and so make themselves common. Nay, even though 
they possess some well-founded and authoritative 
reputation among the crowd, they are not long in 
losing it, together with any personal weight it may 
give them; since all are blind to the qualities on 
which it is based (their genius as poets or artists), but 
have their eyes open to anything that is vulgar and 
common to themselves. They soon discover the truth 
of the Arabian proverb: "Joke with a slave, and he 
will show you his heels" (i. e., kick you). 

It follows that a man of high gifts must, in his inter- 
course with others, always reflect that the best part of 
him is out of sight ; so that if he desires to know ac- 
curately how much he can be to any one else, he has 
only to consider how much the man in question is to 
him. This, as a rule, is precious little ; and therefore 
he is as uncongenial to the other as the other is to 
him. Like is known only by like. 



194 Culture hy Conversation 

Schopenhauer was a philosopher and deep thinker; 
and certainly there was very little in common between 
him and the multitude. In fact, the studirten Klas- 
sen, like the Adeligen, hold themselves quite aloof, 
in his country, from the rank and file. Among the 
university students, for example, only those who are 
or have been students are respected; the rest are 
Rindvieh (cattle). 

But the poets and novel writers, both in Germany 
and elsewhere, look upon the common people with dif- 
ferent eyes. They regard them as Coleridge did, as 
creatures to be studied, or to be amused with. Some 
men declare that all great reforms and reformers come 
from below upward, not from above downward. 

Rousseau, who was usually dull with common people, 
talked like one inspired with David Hume ; Hawthorne, 
who was shy and silent in a mixed company, talked de- 
lightfully with James T. Fields ; and Burns, the 
peasant poet, talked so well and interestingly in all 
companies that one noble lady declared "he was the 
only man who ever in conversation took her completely 
off her feet." When Burns arrived at an inn after 
midnight, all the household got up to hear him talk. 
Like Shakespeare and Scott, all sorts of people were 
interesting to him. 

That strange, sensitive, proud, disdainful being, 
Edgar Allan Poe, was in genial company a brilliant 
talker; but silent and absorbed in any other. Even 
the revengeful and malignant Griswold speaks of his 



More About the Talk of Authors 105 

conversation as "almost supermortal in its eloquence," 
and Mrs. Osgood declares that "for hours she has lis- 
tened to him entranced by strains of such pure and 
celestial eloquence as she had never heard or read else- 
where." Racine, who was, like Addison, shy and silent 
in company, possessed rare tact in making others talk. 
"My talent with men of the world," he writes to his 
son, "consists not in making them feel that I have 
any parts, but in showing them that they have." A 
fine fellow, indeed; the very man after Chesterfield's 
heart. Locke, the philosopher, used to do something 
of this kind ; for it is recorded of him that he was wont 
to lead people into talking about their trade or profes- 
sion, whereby he always learned something new. 

This method, however, which has something of the 
orange-squeezing process in it, is not always to be 
recommended. It must be done with great tact, if 
done at all ; for few persons like to be talked to about 
their trade or profession, and still fewer to exercise 
their professional skill in private. If they do so vol- 
untarily, it is all right; not otherwise. A wealthy 
merchant, inviting an eminent violinist to dinner, 
added, as if by an afterthought, "and, by the way, 
bring your violin along with you." "No," said the 
sensitive artist ; "my violin never dines ;" nor did he on 
this occasion allow either himself or his violin to dine 
with the crafty merchant. 

Authors, too, generally dislike to be talked to about 
their books, especially when the talker is a eulogist. 



196 Culture by Conversation 

"Oh," said Goethe to one who talked to him about 
"Werther," "I have quite a new skin now — I have cast 
that oiF long ago." 

Some writers much prefer conversation to composi- 
tion, and would, if they could, never express their 
thoughts at all, except in the way of conversation. 
Dr. John Brown, the author of "Rab and his 
Friends," and of many excellent essays, was one of 
these. He was not only strongly averse to writing, 
but had a very low estimate of his own productions, 
which are highly esteemed by all lovers of good litera- 
ture. An anonymous writer in the New York Tribune 
thus speaks of him : 

The late Dr. John Brown, certainly one of the most 
delightful essayists of his time, was, strangely enough, 
afflicted with a profound self-distrust. He could not 
be persuaded that he was in any sense a great writer, 
or that he could do anything people would care to 
read. No number of favourable reviews could change 
his idea permanently on that head. It might be pleas- 
ant for a moment to read them ; it was kind, of course, 
in people to write them ; but they gave him no encour- 
agement to try his hand again. Not even Thackeray's 
letter, which he has published, or that of Wendell 
Holmes, which appeared lately in The Scotsman, 
could make him at all believe that it was his clear duty 
to go on. Therefore, his friends had very hard work 
to get him to take up his pen again. He would talk, 
and tell the most delightful stories, and make the 
gayest-hearted fun at pleasant social gatherings ; and 
one longed to have a shorthand writer hid in some 



3Iorc About the Talk of Authors 197 

cupboard near by to take down the wise, quaint, odd, 
and tender words which then so naturally flowed from 
him. But to sit down and write, and still more to cor- 
rect proofs, the very thought of it seemed to freeze 
him. 

The conversation of two famous authors is thus in- 
terestingly discussed in Max Miiller's Reminiscences 
("Auld Lang Syne") : 

Browning was full of sympathy, nay, of worship, 
for anything noble and true in literature, ancient or 
modern. And w^hat was most delightful in him was 
his ready response, his generosity in pouring out his 
own thoughts to anybody who shared his sympathies. 
For real and substantial conversation there was no 
one his equal, and even in the lighter after-dinner talk 
he was admirable. His health seemed good, and he 
was able to sacrifice much of his time to society. He 
had one great advantage : he never consented to spoil 
his dinner by making, or, what is still worse, by having 
to make, a speech. I once felt greatly aggrieved, 
sitting opposite Browning at one of the Royal Acad- 
emy dinners. I had to return thanks for literature 
and scholarship, and was, of course, rehearsing my 
speech during the whole of dinner-time, while he en- 
joyed himself talking to his friends. When I told 
him that it was a shame that I should be made a 
martyr of while he was enjoying his dinner in peace, 
he laughed, and said that he had said "No" once for 
all, and that he had never in his life made a public 
speech. I believe that poets, as a rule, are not good 
speakers. They are too careful about what they wish 
to say. As dinner advanced, I became more and more 



198 Culture by Conversation 

convinced of the etymological identity of honour and 
onus. At last my turn came. Having to face the 
brilliant society which is always present at this dinner, 
including the Prince of Wales, and the ministers of 
both parties, the most eminent artists, authors, scien- 
tists, and critics, I had, of course, learned my speech 
by heart, and was getting on very well, when suddenly 
I saw the Prince of Wales laughing and saying some- 
thing to his neighbour. At once the thread of my 
speech was broken. I began to think whether I could 
have said anything that made the Prince laugh, and 
what it could have been, and while I was thinking in 
every direction, I suddenly stood speechless. I 
thought it was an eternity, and I was afraid I should 
have to collapse and make the greatest fool of myself 
that ever was. I looked at Browning, and he gave me 
a friendly nod; so at that moment my grapple-irons 
caught the lost cable, and I was able to finish my 
speech. When it was over, I turned to Browning and 
said: "Was it not fearful, that pause.'"' "Far from 
it," said he; "it was excellent. It gave life to your 
speech. Everybody saw you were collecting your 
thoughts, and that you were not simply delivering 
what you had learned by heart. Besides, it did not 
last half a minute." To me it had seemed at least five 
or ten minutes. But after Browning's good-natured 
words, I felt relieved, and enjoyed at least what was 
left of a most enjoyable dinner, the only enjoyable 
public dinner I know. 

The story Max Miiller tells of Lord Tennyson is 
equally interesting: 

It was generally after dinner, when smoking his pipe 
and sipping his whiskey and water, that Tennyson 



More About the Talk of Authors 199 

began to thaw, and to take a more active part in con- 
versation. People who have not known him then have 
hardly known him at all. During the day he was often 
very silent and absorbed in his own thoughts ; but in 
the evening he took an active part in the conversation 
of his friends. His pipe was almost indispensable to 
him ; and I remember one occasion when I and several 
friends were staying at his house, the question of 
tobacco turned up. I confessed that for years I had 
been a perfect slave to tobacco ; so that I could neither 
read nor write a line without smoking; but that at 
last I had rebelled against this slavery, and had en- 
tirely given up tobacco. "Anybody can do that," he 
said, "if he chooses to do it." When his friends still 
continued to doubt and to tease him, "Well," he said, 
"I shall give up smoking from to-night." The very 
same evening I was told that he threw his pipes and 
his tobacco out of the window of his bedroom. The 
next day he was most charming, though somewhat 
self-righteous. The second day he became very moody 
and captious ; the third day nobody knew what to do 
with him. But after a disturbed night I was told 
that he got out of bed in the morning, went quietly 
into the garden, picked up one of his broken pipes, 
stuffed it with the remains of the tobacco strewed 
about, and then, having had a few puffs, came to 
breakfast, all right again. Nothing was said any 
more about giving up tobacco. 

Max Miiller was also a friend of James Russell 
Lowell, whose conversation he characterises as "inex- 
haustible, his information astonishing." The best 
description of Lowell's conversation is perhaps that 
given by Justin McCarthy in his "Reminiscences" : 



200 Culture by Conversation 

Lowell had a wonderful gift of conversation, and his 
discourse was all conversation, and not talk ; at least, 
he did not talk at his listeners, or stream away as if 
he were pouring out words for talking's sake. I have 
heard men more brilliant in conversation than Lowell, 
but I have heard no man who seemed more gifted by 
nature with the happy faculty which can respond to 
the thoughts of his hearers, and bring out their best 
thoughts in response to his own. I remember that he 
once began to tell me by chance of some rare and 
precious gift of wine that had been sent to him — wine 
the value of which it would be hardly possible to esti- 
mate by any extravagance set out in a price list ; and 
then he wandered on to descant upon the impossibility 
of such a treasure being adequately appreciated by a 
quiet literary worker like himself, and on this thread 
of idea he hung so many curious conceits, such gems 
of phrase, such chaplets of fancy, that we seemed to 
have iridescent bubbles of fantasy sent floating before 
our eyes and before our minds by every chance breath 
from the worker of the magic. 

And what Mr. McCarthy says of him as an after- 
dinner speaker is really too good to omit. 

Lowell developed in London a gift of which, so far 
as I know, he had not given any clear evidence at 
home. He became one of the most delightful and fas- 
cinating after-dinner speakers I have ever heard. I 
rank him second, and only second, to Charles Dickens 
as an after-dinner speaker. He never said anything 
which was not fresh, original, striking; he made the 
most commonplace theme sparkle with fancy and 
humour, with exquisite phrase and poetic suggestive- 



More About the Talk of Authors 201 

ness. I think the famous old illustration about the 
orator receiving in a vapour from his audience that 
which he gives back as a flood, would have applied 
admirably to Lowell; for it seemed to me that the 
manifest delight of his London audiences had the 
effect of making him a great after-dinner speaker as 
he went along. 

To sum up the whole matter, it is evident that authors 
in congenial company are equal in conversation to any 
class of men whatever. Where principles or theories 
are discussed, the latest thing in art or science, poli- 
tics or political economy, or anything worth talking 
about, the author will rarely be behind the best in the 
company. Who has ever thought of making a book 
of any one's talk except that of an author, an artist, 
or a statesman? What man of fashion, or trade, or 
finance, what money-maker or millionaire has had a 
Boswell, a Boschinger, or an Eckermann to record his 
talk? How many thousands have regretted that 
Shakespeare had no Boswell? 

I have heard a story about Goethe, which, though 
probably unrecorded, looks characteristic, and is 
worth telling. I heard it from a German friend, who 
loved Goethe. When, one evening, a stranger came 
to see the poet, he was tired of seeing strangers, whose 
talk was in no way edifying to him. So he came 
slowly downstairs and sat down by the table, sullen, 
silent, solitary, with folded arms, seeming plainly to 
say : "Well, here I am ; now look at me, and begone !" 



202 Culture by Conversation 

The stranger, who was a Yankee, took In the situation 
at once. So seizing the candle, and carefully examin- 
ing him all round, he laid down a small coin on the 
table, and was about to depart. Then Goethe burst 
out in a loud fit of laughter; rose up, shook the 
stranger heartily by the hand, and complimented him 
on his ready wit. Then a lively and animated con- 
versation took place between the two ; for the great 
man now saw that he had here no ordinary stranger, 
and felt proud that such a man had come to see him. 
Thus the spirit of humour and sympathy being awak- 
ened, the two came near each other, and the stranger 
afterward declared that the conversation which fol- 
lowed was one of the very best he had ever en j oyed. 

So it is with all authors. The spirit must be moved ; 
a link of some sort must be formed; or else the two 
will be as distant toward each other as one milestone 
is to another.* 

*If any of my younger readers should wish to taste some- 
thing like the conversations of literary men, they might consult 
with pleasure and profit either or both of two works that are 
looked upon as masterpieces in their way — the "Noctes Am- 
brosianae," by Professor Wilson (Kit North), or the "Imag- 
inary Conversations of Literary Men and Statesmen," by 
Walter Savage Landor. The first, though imaginary conversa- 
tions, too, is full of rollicking humour, wit, satire and sarcasm; 
but it contains some of the most beautiful and delightful pas- 
sages in literature. Wilson was a prose poet. Some of the 
conversations are by that bright, witty, humorous, Irish 
genius Dr. Maginn, and others are, I think, by Lockhart, author 
of the "Life of Sir Walter Scott." Landor's "Conversations" 



Mcrre About the Talk of Authors 203 

are of a high and serious nature, in which he makes his Greek 
and Roman characters speak as we should expect them to 
speak, and his English historical characters are as brave and 
earnest as they were in life. The work is over high and seri- 
ous to be popular. After all, there is nothing better in litera- 
ture than Shakespeare and Moli^re for any young person who 
wishes to become perfect in conversation — not to speak of the 
wide knowledge of human nature, of philosophic thought, of 
language and manners, to be derived from these poets. Of 
the conversation of Dr. Johnson and his friends I have already 
spoken. After Boswell's "Johnson," the most interesting, enter- 
taining, and instructive book I have ever read is Eckermann's 
"Conversations with Goethe," which is better than any of the 
biographies of the poet, for it reveals his aims, hopes, and fears, 
indeed his whole soul. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

CONVERSATIONS WITH STRANGERS 

"Few things are more perplexing than that restraint 
with which we first meet a stranger; we do not know 
whether it is best to advance or to retreat, to smile, 
or to look grave." — Acton. 

A WRITER in the London Spectator speaks of the de" 
lightful times he enjoyed in listening, unobserved, to 
the conversations of strangers — "accidental conversa- 
tions," he calls them — and recommends the practice to 
travellers as one productive of much pleasure and en- 
tertainment. My experience has been the reverse of 
this. When I have accidentally overheard other peo- 
ple's talk, it has generally been of such a fragmentary 
and disconnected character that I have been rather 
tantalised than amused by it. Besides I have always 
thought it contrary to good manners to listen to the 
talk of strangers, and have generally endeavoured to 
avoid hearing, rather than to hear, what they were 
saying. Yet this writer defends the practice on moral 
as well as on practical grounds, and boldly declares 
that "a man has a right to listen to and to overhear 
all accidental conversations, subject to this limitation, 
that he does so with the bona fide intention of getting 
therefrom the amusement which is expected at the 



Conversations with Strangers 205 

theatre, and nothing but that." This, however, is a 
point of moral philosophy which I leave for casuists 
like him to plead or to defend. 

Mr. Buckle, who usually travelled in second-class 
railway carriages, says: "I always talk with the pas- 
sengers, and usually find very intelligent people in 
those carriages ; the first-class passengers are so dull ; 
as soon as you broach a subject they are frightened." 
And he declares that he had picked up a great deal of 
information in this way from commercial travellers, 
who generally have a thorough knowledge of the 
country through which they are in the habit of trav- 
elling. 

How differently people of different nations act in 
their conduct toward strangers ! While one may ac- 
cost a Frenchman or an Irishman at any time without 
offence, and indeed with absolute certainty of civil 
treatment, one hardly dares to speak to an English- 
man, for fear of a rebuff ! What is it that makes the 
Englishman so distant and cold, and the Frenchman 
so accessible and warm? The Englishman comes of a 
slow-thinking and slow-going race, slower and more 
sluggish than he is now; while the Frenchman be- 
longs to a quick-witted, warm-blooded, impulsive race, 
noted for easy manners and ready speech. Probably 
the same may be said of the Irishman, who belongs 
in fact to the same race as the Frenchman. The Eng- 
lishman, being an islander, cut off for nearly a thou- 
sand years from communication with foreigners, 



206 Culture by Conversation 

knowing them only as invaders to be resisted or 
enemies to be conquered, is naturally shy and reserved 
toward strangers ; and then, being for the last century 
or two frequently deceived by foreign scamps and 
scalawags, who make an asylum of his country, he 
is suspicious of all who approach him without creden- 
tials. The Frenchman has few experiences of this 
kind; for those who visit France are generally well- 
to-do people, who bring profit to the shopkeepers 
and hotel-keepers ; so that, even in Paris, foreigners 
find the natives aifable and agreeable on all oc- 
casions. 

How is it that Americans, who are mostly of the 
same race as the English, are so much less reserved 
toward foreigners than Englishmen are? I suppose it 
is because Americans themselves are mostly foreigners 
or the children of foreigners ; they stand, therefore, 
more on an equal footing with foreigners ; and are not 
afraid of losing caste by talking to them or making 
their acquaintance. We are so accustomed to for- 
eigners in this country that we are no longer shy of 
them; and, on the whole, probably find them quite as 
agreeable as the natives. 

No intelligent man will maintain that most foreigners 
are knaves ; probably but a small percentage of them 
are such. When I came to Frankfort, in Germany, I 
was told that most of its inhabitants were Jews. The 
actual figures were that fifteen per cent, of them be- 
longed to that class. Figures and fancies seldom 



Conversations with Strangers 207 

agree. The great majority of Europeans who come 
to this country are anxious to make a better living here 
than they did at home; and I should be pleased to 
hear that Europeans entertained as good an opinion 
of the Americans who come to their country as we do 
of the Europeans who come to ours. At all events, 
John Bull's distant bearing toward the foreigners 
who come to his island is by no means so commendable 
as Brother Jonathan's open-hearted and hospitable 
conduct toward those who come to his continent. 
When in England I found the English especially kind 
to Americans, whom they don't regard as foreigners, 
but as children of their own race, and are proud of 
their relationship to them. 

But this is getting away from what I intended to 
say. Conversation with strangers — how seldom this 
is found satisfactory or pleasant! If I strike up a 
conversation with a stranger in a railway train or a 
steamboat, I find, nine times out of ten, it amounts to 
nothing more than conventional phrases. He does not 
know me, and I do not know him; and so we begin a 
species of fencing, each endeavouring to penetrate the 
mask of the other, and we keep on thus for a while, 
until we either discover frankly one to the other, who 
and what we are, or until one quietly drops away from 
the other. I have so often found this the case, that I 
seldom now attempt a conversation with a stranger 
unless he begins it, for I think I have been more ready 
to talk with strangers than they have been with me. 



208 Culture by Conversation 

Sometimes I have found an hour or two of what 
would have been tedious waiting suddenly turned into 
a pleasant experience by striking up acquaintance 
with a stranger. Some time ago I was one of about 
twenty persons waiting for an interview with an emi- 
nent oculist in New York, and expected nothing else 
than the usual two hours' silent waiting until my turn 
came, which had been my fate more than once before, 
when it turned out otherwise this time. After glanc- 
ing at some of the books and pamphlets on the parlour 
table, I sat down beside a gentleman who had also been 
looking at them, and, after sitting a while in silence, I 
ventured to remark to him: 
"Waiting makes the time long, doesn't it?" 
"Indeed it does," he said; "and I've just been think- 
ing whether I shall stay now till my turn comes, or go 
away and return early to-morrow morning." Then 
he began telling me how long he had waited here and 
there on other occasions. I told him my experience 
of a similar nature; and, by gradual steps, we came 
to tell each other what brought us there, which led to 
much talk about medical practice and practitioners, 
about the habits, peculiarities, fees, etc., of the doc- 
tors we had known, and he told me some very curious 
things concerning those he had had dealings with. 
Then we branched off into literature, art, the stage, 
and other matters, and I found him such a charming 
talker, so well-read, well-informed, and communica- 
tive, that the two hours flew by before I was aware, 



Conversations with Strangers 209 

and I was excccdingl}'^ sorry when my turn came to see 
the physician. Strangely enough, this gentleman was 
an Englishman, with a name and a character some- 
thing like Mr. Allworthy in "Tom Jones," and all the 
air of a man of leisure and culture. I should have 
supposed such a man would be distant and shy toward 
strangers ; but he was the reverse, and every remark 
I made called forth two or three from him, He was, 
however, an Englishman who had travelled, who had 
mixed a good deal among foreigners and stran- 
gers, and who, having had a good many prejudices 
rubbed off, was no longer the shy islander that most 
of his countrymen are. 

One of the most pleasant acquaintances of this kind 
that I ever made was that of three English gentlemen 
whom I met on a Rhine steamer plying between 
Mayence and Cologne. I have said English gentle- 
men ; and I thought at first they were such ; but they 
turned out to be Irish gentlemen, and I think they were 
the finest specimens of that genus homo I ever met. 
Being unacquainted with German, they could not even 
ask the names of certain spots which attracted their 
attention on the Rhine; and it was while they were 
speculating among themselves about these objects of 
interest, that I ventured to give them the desired in- 
formation. To my surprise, they received my ad- 
vances with great cordiality, and readily entered into 
conversation with me. I saw at once the differ- 
ence between Irish and English gentlemen; for these 



210 Culture by Conversation 

had a cordiality of manner, a quick, witty way of 
speaking, and a lively off-hand address, which an 
Englishman rarely exhibits on a first acquaintance, 
least of all to a stranger. They were Trinity College 
men, all of them, and seemed to me to have more the 
air and speech of our best-educated Americans than 
those of Englishmen ; for they had none of that pre- 
tentious manner and long disagreeable drawl which are 
characteristic of many Englishmen. Now I see, 
thought I, why educated Dubliners are set down as 
speaking the best English in the world, and why 
Richard Grant White thought Shakespeare spoke 
English as the people of Dublin speak now. Well, we 
had a delightful time, the most pleasant talk all the 
way to Cologne; and, what seemed strange to me, 
though they were Irishmen, they were loyal to the 
government and the queen, and spoke of Parliament 
and the Ministry as if they sat in Dublin instead of 
London. I have encountered many Englishmen and 
many Irishmen, but none that were so pleasant, 
cordial, and agreeable as these. 

On this very trip I saw two Englishmen, obviously 
men of wealth and probably of rank, sitting below 
in the cabin, talking low and drinking high, and 
utterly oblivious of everything and everybody around 
them, during this grand trip down the Rhine! 
What did they care for scenery? It was nothing 
compared with what might be seen in England, you 
know! 



Convei^sations with Strangers 211 

I have, however, had some encounters with Irishmen 
which were quite of a different character from that 
described above. And this comes from the fact that I 
have been perhaps a Httle too free in expressing my 
opinions. I once began talking to an intelligent-look- 
ing Irishman in New York about Parnell and his 
policy, when I found my man suddenly turn into a 
threatening enemy, ready to do me bodily injury for 
my opinions. The worst of it is, it is hard to beat a 
decent retreat when one gets into such a fix. A short 
time ago, while enjoying my glass of beer in an inn 
in New York, I heard three or four Irishmen close by 
me talking of a meeting at which Robert Emmet was 
much spoken of. I was well acquainted with the his- 
tory of poor Emmet, knew all about the rebellion in 
which he was engaged, and had many a time read with 
deep emotion the eloquent speech with which he closed 
his career. I knew, too, the story of the lady he loved, 
as told by Washington Irving in the "Sketch-Book," 
and had often read the pathetic lines written by Moore 
on Curran's daughter, to whom young Emmet was en- 
gaged. So I was naturally interested, on hearing his 
name repeatedly mentioned, and I ventured to ask one 
of them : 

"Would you kindly tell me what this is about Robert 
Emmet .^^ What has been done about him lately .f^" 

"And where have ye been that ye have heard nothin' 
about it.'' What do ye know about Robert Emmet?" 
inquired my man. 



212 Culture by Conversation 

"Oh, I know all about Emmet and the rebellion of 
'92. But what is this now about him?" 

*'And if ye know so much about him, how is it that 
ye have so little faeling, so little patriotism, as to take 
no interest in the maeting that celebrated the one hun- 
dredth anniversary of his death, the great maeting at 
Cooper Institute?" 

This was said in a menacing, vicious tone, and I saw 
that a quarrel was threatened. So I answered quietly : 

"Well, because in the first place I am not an Irish- 
man ; in the second, I do not live in New York ; and in 
the third, I mistook you for a gentleman who would 
answer a civil question without insult." And I rose 
to walk away. 

"A Saxon! a tory! an informer!" they all three 
shouted ; and as I went out at the door a heavy pewter 
tankard was flung at my head, which, grazing my 
hat, went clean through the plate-glass door before 
me, covering the pavement with fragments. I es- 
caped unhurt ; but whether the miscreant escaped pay- 
ing for the glass door or not, I know not. Had I 
stayed, he would have sworn / had thrown the missile, 
and made me pay for it. However, his "fling" must 
have cost him a pretty penny ; and I hope this expe- 
rience taught him a lesson, as it certainly did me. 

But let me tell something more pleasant about Irish- 
men. There is a meeting between two Irishmen in 
London, strangers to each other, which stands in my 
memory as one of the pleasantest bits of biography 



Conversations with Strangers 213 

in literature. When Curran was studying law at Lin- 
coln's Inn, he was sometimes out of funds, and one 
day, having nothing wherewith to pay for a dinner, 
he went into St. James's Park, where, sitting on 
"Penniless Bench," he began whistling Irish airss 
A gentleman who was taking a stroll in the park 
noticed him, and sat down beside him. It was 
Quin, the actor. He was not long in striking up 
an acquaintance with the whistler ; so after some merry 
quips and cranks, he made bold to say to him: 

"How comes it, young man, that you are whistling 
Irish airs here while all your companions are gone to 
dinner .?" 

"Have you never heard of a man dining on wind.?" 
asked Curran. "That happens to be my case to-day ; 
and so you see I am making the most of it !" 

Quin was not long in inviting him to dine on some^ 
thing more substantial, and was amply rewarded by 
the bright, lively, and witty talk of his brilliant young 
countryman, who was destined later to be as famous 
as himself. Quin was delighted with him, and from 
that day became one of his fast friends. I tell the 
story from memory — it is some thirty years since I 
read it — ^but the best of it is yet to come. Some ten 
or twelve years after this, when Curran had become a 
famous lawyer and Quin had just concluded a bril- 
liant professional engagement in Dublin, ending up 
with a dinner and a gift of plate or something of that 
sort, the orator of the occasion was Curran, who, in 



214 Culture by Conversation 

presenting the plate, alluded to the whistling incident, 
and concluded with the words: "Splendidly as you 
have acted on this and on many other occasions, Mr. 
Quin ; brilliant as every one of your performances has 
been, you never acted better than on that occasion 
when you aided that friendless youth in a strange 
land among strangers !" 

Sometimes the course of one's whole life is changed 
by an accidental meeting with a stranger. I say 
accidental: in some cases it might more properly be 
called providential. 

A gentleman whom I know well told me this instruc- 
tive story : 

Here is how I became a teacher. I was working as 
a printer on a French newspaper in Paris, when, one 
day, while chatting with a friend in a cafe on the 
Boulevard Montmartre, a young gentleman came in, 
whom my friend introduced to me as a countryman of 
mine. He was an American, and as I had long been 
in America, my friend looked upon me, of course, as 
an American. Well, I got into conversation with the 
young gentleman, whose name was Martin, and I 
learned that he was engaged in teaching English in a 
fashionable school in Paris; that he made a very 
respectable living in this employment; and that he 
was living with wife and child in the Faubourg St. 
Antoine. Curiously enough, he told me that there was 
such a prejudice against the English of Americans 
that he was obliged to pass for an Englishman. I 
said I did not need that, as I was British-born. Then 
he asked me: 



Conversations tvith Strangers 215 

"Are you engaged in teaching?" 

"No ; in composing." 

"What! Music?" 

"No, quite a different sort of composition." 

"You are a writer for the press?" 

"Oh, no ; I compose what others write for the press." 

"Then, what do you compose?" 

"Well, although it is true I compose, I am not a 
composer, but a compositor." 

"Oh, that's it. Well, I suppose you find your knowl- 
edge of French and German useful in that business." 

"Yes, useful but not profitable. I wish I could make 
it as profitable as your English as spoken by English- 
men." 

"You can easily do so." 

"How so?" 

"Why, by teaching, as I do." 

"But I never learned how to teach." 

"Why, any fairly educated American, with a will 
and a stock of knowledge, can teach his native tongue 
to foreigners." 

"But how can I get a situation ?" 

"Easily ; all you have to do is to state your qualifica- 
tions to the proprietor of a bureau de placement — I 
can recommend you to one — and he will soon find you 
a position as professeur d*anglais et d'allemand in 
some school here or en province. Such men as you 
are not to be had here every day ; for native teachers 
of English are at a premium." 

I followed his advice, and found he was right. All 
employment agencies in France are under government 
oversight, and no undue advantage of applicants for 
situations is ever taken. In a few days I was flying 
by rail across the country to a school in a manufac- 



216 Culture by Conversation 

turing town in the north of France, where I began 
my career as a teacher. There were 200 boys, 85 
pensionnaires and 115 extemes, or day-boys. The 
salary was small, but I had good board and lodging, 
very few lessons, and abundance of time for study and 
observation. But perhaps the most valuable part of 
my education here was obtained in this wise: I had 
half a dozen private scholars in the town, one of 
whom was a young gentleman of independent fortune, 
another a rising young advocate, and a third an 
active young manufacturer; and my intercourse and 
conversation with these gentlemen proved exceedingly 
valuable to me. For it was while talking with and 
teaching English and German to these gentlemen, who 
treated me as an equal — in no part of Europe is there 
such a democratic spirit as in France — that I got rid 
of that depressed or slavish feeling, that feeling of 
inferiority or subordinacy which was drilled into me 
during my thirteen years of bondage as a workman 
under tyrannical bosses and foremen. Here I found 
myself; for it was during the daily intercourse with 
these gentlemen that I first got a glimpse of my own 
powers, and I never lost confidence in myself after 
that. I think I learned quite as much here as Miss 
Bronte learned in the school at Brussels, and I am 
only sorry that I cannot display this knowledge as 
she did in "The Professor" and in "Villette." 

I suppose most men could, if they would, tell some- 
thing equally remarkable, in their personal experience, 
through an accidental meeting with a stranger. 

Awkward things sometimes happen in these encoun- 
ters between strangers. An Englishman, who had just 



Conversations with Strangers 217 

returned from a trip to Holland, was asked by a stran- 
ger what he thought of that country. "Well," said 
he, "I think with Voltaire, who exclaimed on leaving 
the country: 

"Adieu, canards, canaux, canaille!" 

"Do you know," said the stranger, who happened to 
be a Dutchman, "what Voltaire said of the EngHsh?" 
"No; what was it?" "Something perfectly true," he 
replied. "It is this : 'Les Anglais out toute la durete 
de leur acier, sans le poli !' " This was tit for tat ; 
and no doubt the Englishman felt it, but had he 
known a little more of Voltaire he might have come 
off victorious ; for Voltaire declared on another oc- 
casion, "Si je pourrais avoir choisi le pays de ma nais- 
sance, j'aurais choisi I'Angleterre" ("if I could have 
chosen the place of my birth, I would have chosen 
England"). 

Mr. G. W. Smalley tells a good story concerning a 
meeting between an Englishman and a Scotchman in 
a railway train. I am obliged to tell the story from 
memory. An English clergyman had got into an in- 
teresting conversation with a stranger in a railway 
train bound from the Highlands of Scotland to Edin- 
burgh. The stranger, who was clad in hunting cos- 
tume, fresh from a grouse-hunting expedition in the 
Highlands, displayed such remarkable skill and ad- 
dress in conversation, such extensive knowledge and 
rare powers of expression, that the clergyman was de- 



218 Culture by Conversation 

lighted with him, and was about inviting him to dinner 
at his home when he bethought him of the stranger's 
costume. Being a person of some dignity in the 
Church, and his wife somewhat of a stickler for eti- 
quette, he hesitated to invite a gentleman in hunting 
garb to dinner, which hesitation he frankly communi- 
cated to the stranger. The latter smiled blandly, but 
said nothing. The talk went on ; and the clergyman 
was more and more delighted with the elegant and en- 
tertaining conversation of his unknown companion. 
When the train arrived at its destination, they ex- 
changed cards ; and the clergyman, after getting into 
his carriage, looked at the card of the stranger, and 
found on it the name of the Duke of Argyle ! 

Everybody has heard of Bass's Burton ale; but not 
everybody knows that the brewer of the same was made 
a lord, and is now known as Lord Burton. The fol- 
lowing amusing story of his lordship's meeting with 
a stranger will not be amiss here. While travelling in 
Scotland, a fellow-passenger engaged Lord Burton 
in conversation on the subject of brewing. Finding 
his lordship well posted on the subject, the stranger 
observed : 

"Look here, my friend, you seem to know a good 
deal about brewing. I am a brewer down Brighton 
way. I want an active and promising man to act as 
manager under me and to push the business. I have 
no family, and if he does well there is a partnership 
ahead in the future. Now, is that a good offer?" 



Co7iversatio7is with Strangers 219 

"An excellent one," replied Lord Burton, "and I am 
only sorry that I cannot avail myself of it. The fact 
is, my name is Bass, and I have a little brewery of my 
own down Burton way which demands all my atten- 
tion." 

Here is another Scotch anecdote which is worth tell- 
ing. A clergyman having struck up an acquaintance 
with a young man in a railway train, asked him where 
he came from. "Edinburgh," he replied. "Edin- 
burgh !" said the clergyman ; "so do I. What trade 
do you follow.^" "I am a coupler." "Oh," said the 
clergyman, "that's very strange. So am I." "You 
may be that," said the young man, "but I think I have 
the advantage o' ye." "How so.^^" asked the clergy- 
man. "Because you can only couple on; but I can 
couple aff as weel !" 



CHAPTER XIX 

MEN OF ADDRESS IN CONVERSATION 

"Give a boy address and accomplishments, and you 
give him the mastery of palaces and fortunes. Wher- 
ever he goes, he has not the trouble of earning or 
owning them ; they solicit him to enter and pos- 
sess." — Emerson. 

Lord Chesterfield, who knew the Duke of Marlbor- 
ough well, tells us that although the duke was a man 
of little or no literary culture — in fact he could 
hardly spell common words correctly — he had such a 
gracious manner and winning way in conversation, 
that he gained all hearts, and scored as many vic- 
tories as a diplomatist as he did as a general. On one 
occasion, the Council of the Estates General in Hol- 
land had nearly come to the conclusion, under the in- 
fluence of the French ambassador, of siding with 
France against England in a war about to be under- 
taken ; when Marlborough, who had been unavoidably 
detained from the meeting, arrived. He had not been 
half an hour among the Councillors, when, by his cap- 
tivating manner and persuasive words, he turned the 
tide of feeling completely in favour of England, and 
won an ally for his country where otherwise she would 
have had an enemy ! 



Men of Address in Conversation 221 

This persuasive power in conversation, this quahty, 
which we call address, is, I imagine, a thing that can 
hardly be acquired; it must be born with one. Yet, 
nevertheless, I am positive that by study, observation 
and practice it is a thing which one may imitate so well 
as to make it almost natural. By seeing how others 
succeed, we naturally come to adopt something of 
their ways ; and habit becomes second nature. Besides, 
the man who is not constantly seeking after a wider 
development of his intellectual powers has nothing of 
the elements of success in him, and never will succeed 
in anything. 

Some of the methods of men of address are very sim- 
ple, and may be copied by any one. I have heard of 
one great man, noted for his fascinating manner and 
his power of making friends wherever he went, who al- 
ways took care to remember the name of every person 
to whom he was introduced, and to show that he re- 
membered it. How well he knew human nature ! For 
there is nothing more flattering to an ordinary mortal 
than to be remembered and addressed by name by a 
distinguished man. 

Remember, it is far easier to recall the face of a per- 
son than to remember his name. I have already spoken 
of the remarkable power of Henry Clay in this re- 
spect, which was one of the secrets of his success ; and 
his example has been followed by many others. I 
imagine that William, Earl of Nassau, of whom it is 
recorded that "he won a subject from the King of 



222 Culture by Conversation 

Spain every time he took off his hat," must have been 
a man of this stamp. I don't think it is a great mem- 
ory that is required, but close attention to the people 
introduced, as a matter of business. 

Of that very able and highly polished gentleman, 
Cardinal Manning, Mr. Justin McCarthy says: 

Unlike some other great men whom I have known, 
he had a wonderful eye and memory for faces. He 
seemed never to forget any one who had even in the 
most rapid way been presented to him. We all know 
how we poor mediocrities are frequently disappointed 
and vexed because some eminent person whom we have 
already met several times appears to have forgotten 
all about us when we come in his way again; . . . 
but with the Cardinal there was instant recognition, 
there was a complete recollection of the name and the 
individuality and the merits of poor expectant medi- 
ocrity. 

Is it any wonder such a man made many friends and 
gained a high position in the Church? But another 
evidence of his wisdom and tact is afforded in these 
words : 

The Cardinal could talk of anything . . . and one 
of the charms of his conversation was to be found in 
the fact that he had a quick and keen perception of 
character, and that a slight touch of the satirical 
occasionally gave freshness and life to his remarks. 

Few men, however skilful or able, are beyond learn- 
ing something by the example of others, or by the rules 



Men of Address in Conversation 223 

and precepts set down and followed by them. Even 
Dr. Johnson, who was famous for his natural powers 
as a converser, tried to profit by certain rules of con- 
versation set down by other good talkers. One of 
these was the following by Lord Bacon : "In all kinds 
of speech, whether pleasant, grave, severe, or ordi- 
nary, it is convenient to speak leisurely, and rather 
slowly than hastily ; for hasty speech confounds 
'memory, and oftentimes, besides the unseemliness, 
drives a man either to stammering, a non-plus, or 
to harping on that which should follow; whereas 
a slow speech confirmeth the memory, addeth a con- 
ceit of wisdom to the hearer, besides a seemliness of 
speech and countenance to the speaker." 

This precept, good as it is for conversation, is still 
better, I imagine, for a public address. When Sir 
Joshua Reynolds asked Dr. Johnson by what means 
he had attained his extraordinary accuracy and flow 
of language, he replied that "he had early laid it down 
as a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion and in 
every company; to impart whatever he knew in the 
most forcible language he could command ; and that, 
by constant practice, and not suffering any careless 
expressions to escape him, he had made good language 
habitual to him." Thus we see that his power as a 
talker was, to a large extent, acquired. 

But I wish to give a practical example of the way 
in which a man of address may make a friend of an 
enemy ; nay, of how he may turn a bitter hater into an 



224 Culture by Conversation 

admirer and benefactor. I refer to the first interview 
between John Wilkes and Samuel Johnson, as reported 
by Boswell, which forms one of the best-told and most 
interesting chapters in BoswelFs famous biography of 
Johnson. Let the reader remember that Johnson was 
an uncompromising Churchman and bigoted Tory, 
while Wilkes was a Free-thinker in religion and a 
Radical in politics ; that both were active promoters 
of the views entertained by each ; and that each had 
bitterly attacked the other in the public prints. Let 
him remember that Wilkes had lost his teeth, squinted 
and lisped, and suffered from an ill reputation. Then 
he may conceive what address, what skill in conversa- 
tion, he must have displayed to gain the favour and 
friendship of such a man as Johnson. Even Lord 
Mansfield, who was no friend of Radicals and Free- 
thinkers, spoke of Wilkes, after meeting him at a din- 
ner at Mr. Strachan's, as "the pleasantest companion 
and the politest gentleman he had ever known." 

Of the skilful manner in which Boswell brought them 
together, which I also quote, Burke declared "there 
was nothing equal to it in the whole history of the 
Corps Diplomatique." The way the two were intro- 
duced is about as good an example of skilful address 
as that displayed by Wilkes himself in his interview 
with the Great Bear of literature. Here it is : 

I conceived an irresistible wish to bring, if possible. 
Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes together. How to man- 
age it was a nice and difficult matter. My worthy 



Men of Address in Conversation 225 

booksellers and friends, Messrs. Dilly in the Poultry, 
at whose hospitable and well-covered table I have seen 
a greater number of literary men than at any other, 
except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had invited me 
to meet Mr. Wilkes and some other gentlemen on 
Wednesday, May 15th. "Pray," said I, "let us have 
Dr. Johnson." "What, with Mr. Wilkes? Not for 
the world," said Mr. Edward Dilly; "Dr. Johnson 
would never forgive me." "Come," said I, "if you'll 
let me negotiate for you, I will be answerable that all 
shall go well." "Nay, if you will take it upon you," 
he replied, "I am sure I shall be very happy to see 
them both here." 

Notwithstanding the high veneration which I enter- 
tained for Dr. Johnson, I was sensible that he was 
sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of contra- 
diction, and by means of that I hoped I would gain my 
point. I was persuaded that if I had come upon him 
with a direct proposal, "Sir, will you dine in company 
with Jack Wilkes ?" he would have flown into a passion, 
and would probably have answered, "Dine with Jack 
Wilkes, sir! Pd as soon dine with Jack Ketch 1" I, 
therefore, while we were sitting quietly by ourselves at 
his house one evening, took occasion to open my plan, 
thus: 

"Mr. Dilly, sir, sends his respectful compliments to 
you, and would be happy if you would do him the 
honour to dine with him on Wednesday next along 
with me, as I must soon go to Scotland." 

Johnson. Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I shall 
wait upon him. 

Boswell. Provided, sir, I suppose, that the company 
he is to have be agreeable to you.^^ 

Johnson. What do you mean, sir.? What do you 



226 Culture hy Conversation 

take me for? Do you think I am so ignorant of 
the world as to imagine that I am to prescribe to a 
gentleman what company he is to have at his 
table? 

Boswell. I beg your pardon, sir, for wishing to pre- 
vent you from meeting people whom you might not 
like. Perhaps he may have some of what he calls his 
patriotic friends with him. 

Johnson. Well, sir, and what then? What care / 
for his patriotic friends ? Poh ! 

Boswell, I should not be surprised to find Jack 
Wilkes there. 

Johnson. And if Jack Wilkes should be there, what 
is that to me, sir? My dear friend, let us have no 
more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you ; 
but, really, it is treating me strangely to talk to me 
as if I could not meet any company whatever, occa- 
sionally. 

Boswell. Pray, forgive me, sir ; I meant well. But 
you shall meet whoever comes, for me. 

Thus I secured him, and told Dilly that he would be 
very well pleased to be one of his guests on the day 
appointed. . . . 

When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing-room, Dr. 
Johnson found himself in the midst of a company he 
did not know. I kept myself snug and silent, watch- 
ing how he would conduct himself. I observed him 
whispering to Mr. Dilly: 

"Who is that gentleman, sir?" 

"Mr. Arthur Lee, sir." 

Johnson. Too, too, too (under his breath), which 
was one of his habitual mutterings. 

Mr. Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to 
Johnson, for he was not only a patriot, but an Ameri- 



Men of Address in Conversation 227 

can (a rebel). He was afterwards Minister from the 
United States at the court of Madrid. 

"And who is the gentleman in lace.''" 

"Mr. Wilkes, sir." 

This information confounded him still more ; he had 
some difficulty to restrain himself; and taking up a 
book, sat down upon a window-seat and read, or at 
least kept his eyes upon the book intently for some 
time, till he composed himself. His feelings, I dare 
say, were awkward enough. But he no doubt recol- 
lected his having rated me for supposing that he 
could be at all disconcerted by any company ; and he, 
therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite as an 
easy man of the world, who could adapt himself at 
once to the disposition and manners of those whom he 
might chance to meet. 

The cheering sound of "Dinner is upon the table" 
dissolved his reverie, and we all sat down without any 
symptom of ill humour. There were present, besides 
Mr. Wilkes and Mr. Arthur Lee, who was an old com- 
panion of mine when he studied physic at Edinburgh, 
Mr. (now Sir John) Miller, Dr. Lettson, and Mr. 
Slater, the druggist. Mr. Wilkes placed himself next 
to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with so much 
attention and politeness, that he gained upon him in- 
sensibly. No man ate more heartily than Johnson, or 
loved better what was nice and delicate. Mr. Wilkes 
was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 
"Pray, give me leave, sir. It is better here. A little 
of the brown. Some fat, sir. A little of the stuffing. 
Some gravy. Let me have the pleasure of giving you 
some butter. Allow me to recommend a squeeze of 
this orange — or the lemon, perhaps, may have more 
zest." "Sir, sir, I am obliged to you, sir," cried 



228 Culture by Coriversation 

Johnson, bowing and turning his head to him with a 
look for some time of "surly virtue," but, in a short 
while, of complacency. 

Foote being mentioned, Johnson said: "He is not a 
good mimic." 

One of the company added, "A merry-andrew, a buf- 
foon." 

Johnson. But he has wit, too, and is not deficient 
in ideas, or in fertility and variety of imagery, and 
not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to 
fill up his part. One species of wit he has in an emi- 
nent degree, that of escape. You drive him into a 
comer with both hands ; but he's gone, sir, when you 
think you have got him — like an animal that jumps 
over your head. Then he has a great range for wit ; 
he never lets truth stand between him and a jest, and 
he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is under 
many restraints from which Foote is free." 

Wilkes. Garrick's wit is more like Lord Chester- 
field's. 

Johnson. The first time I was in company with 
Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion 
of the fellow, I was resolved not to be pleased ; and it 
is very difficult to please a man against his will. I 
went on eating my dinner pretty sullenly, aff*ecting 
not to mind him. But the dog was so very comical, 
that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, 
throw myself back upon my chair, and fairly laugh it 
out. No, sir, he was irresistible. He, upon one oc- 
casion, experienced in an extraordinary degree the 
efficacy of his powers of entertaining. Amongst the 
many and various modes which he tried of getting 
money, he became a partner with a small-beer brewer, 
and he was to have a share of the profits for procuring 



3Icii of Address in Conversation 229 

customers amongst his numerous acquaintance. Fitz- 
herbert was one who took his small-beer ; but it was 
so bad that the sen^ants resolved not to drink it. They 
were at some loss how to notify their resolution, being 
afraid to offend their master, who they knew liked 
Foote as a companion. At last they fixed upon a little 
black boy, who was rather a favourite, to be their 
deputy and deliver their remonstrance; and, having 
invested him with the whole authority of the kitchen, 
he was to infonn Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names, 
upon a certain day, that they would drink Foote's 
small-beer no longer. On that day Foote happened 
to dine at Fitzherbert's, and this boy served at table ; 
he was so delighted at Foote's stories and merriment 
and grimace, that when he went downstairs he told the 
servants : "This is the finest man I have ever seen — I 
will not deliver your message — I will drink his small- 
beer." 

And so the conversation went on for hours, the poli- 
tician bringing out the philosopher more and more, 
with constantly increasing good humour, and the au- 
thor excelling himself in good-natured remarks. How 
carefully Wilkes abstained from touching any in- 
harmonious sub j ect ! how well he knew how to turn 
the conversation on those things on which they both 
agreed ! There is where he displayed that tact which 
conquers where even genius fails. Wilkes finally made 
the doctor think so much of him that he became his 
fast friend, sent him a complete copy of the "Lives 
of the Poets," and spoke of him as "a scholar, with 
the manners of a gentleman." That day he went home 



230 Culture by Conversation 

and told Mrs. Williams "how much he had been pleased 
with Wilkes's company, and what an agreeable day 
he had passed." 

Now, as an offset to this, let me mention Adam 
Smith's encounter with Johnson, and show how dif- 
ferently the philosopher acted as compared with the 
man of the world. Dr. Smith, who was a far more 
learned man than Wilkes, lost his head at once, and 
made a bitter enemy where he might have made a 
useful friend. A man may be a profound thinker and 
logician, and yet be utterly lacking in an3rthing like 
tact or address in conversation. Johnson, who was in- 
troduced to Dr. Smith in the street, expressed some 
doubt, after the first few words of greeting, as to 
the strict accuracy of Dr. Smith's account of the last 
illness of David Hume — that is, as to all that was said 
and done by the famous infidel during his last illness. 
Dr. Smith stoutly maintained that his account was 
strictly accurate in every particular; whereupon 
Johnson became angry, and called Smith a liar; and 
the latter retorted by calling Johnson a son of a — 
very bad person ! And so they parted. This was the 
first and last interview of the two most learned men 
of the day ! 

Another tactless man is he who fails to catch the 
note of the company in which he finds himself. To be 
serious among gay people, or gay among serious 
people, is tactless. But, above all, to be unable to 
perceive where long speeches are out of order, or where 



Men of Address in Conversation 231 

weighty information is not in place, is pre-eminently 
tactless. Mr. G. W. Smalley, after showing that the 
talk of good society in London is no longer the same 
as it was forty years ago, when Macaulay and others 
talked for hours on a stretch, but that all is said in a 
light, easy, rapid, and crisp way, with no other aim 
than entertainment and pleasant interchange of 
thought, gives a very graphic picture of the young 
gentleman from abroad, say, from the banks of the 
Congo or from South Africa, who, finding himself at 
a fashionable party, tries, wherever he can, to get off 
the weighty things he has learned in his travels. 

He is a cultivated, an accomplished man; but not 
quite what is here understood as a man of the world. 
He belongs, in fact, to that same past generation 
which had so heavy a hand or such a genius for get- 
ting to the bottom of a subject; and sometimes stay- 
ing there. He is asked to an evening party. He goes 
correctly attired and bent on conquest. He is not 
content with the silent bow, or the word or two of 
commonplace greeting to his hostess, which here are 
thought sufficient. He comes to a dead halt at the 
top of the staircase; sets forth in elegant language 
his pleasure at seeing her, his pleasure at being asked, 
the pleasure he expects from seeing so many pleasant 
people, his pleasure at having quite unexpectedly 
found the English so civil to the tribes of Central or 
South Africa. Long before he has finished, the pres- 
sure of guests arriving behind him has carried him 
on into the middle of the drawing-room, and the com- 
pliment which he began to his hostess is completed in 



232 Culture by Conversation 

the ear of a stranger. His friend introduces him to 
the stranger, a woman of the world, and of the Lon- 
don world. She receives him precisely as she receives 
nine-tenths of her acquaintances. Perhaps she even 
shakes hands with him, seeing that he expects it ; then, 
after two or three of those vapid sentences which do 
duty for conversation in such a crush, turns to a 
newcomer. Our friend from the Congo thinks she 
does not care for conversation, and, if he be sensitive, 
that she does not care for him. Again he is intro- 
duced; and again the English lady, young or old, 
does her best to be civil to him ; but her civilities, too, 
are of the same fleeting kind. It does not occur to 
her that this dark cousin from over the sea expects to 
exchange opinions with her on the Irish question, or 
to extract a full account of her views on the cor- 
relation of forces. She also turns away; and after 
one or two more such experiences, he announces sadly 
that he is not a success in London society. He has 
not caught the note — that is all. 

Although this "dark cousin over the sea" may pos- 
sibly veil some Western or Southern American whom 
Mr. Smalley had in his eye, the picture is piquant 
enough, especially to a Bostonian ; though I have no 
doubt the same man may sometimes be seen even in 
Fifth Avenue society. Mr. Smalley says of the con- 
versation of the London society to-day: 

Topics are treated lightly and, above all, briefly. If 
you want to preach a sermon, you must get into a 
pulpit or a newspaper ; preach it at table you cannot. 
You may tell a story, but you must, in Hayward's 
phrase, cut it to the bone. If you do not cut it short, 



Men of Address in Conversation 233 

you will be cut into and before you are half way 
through ; another man will have begun and finished his, 
and your audience will have gone over to the enemy. 

This, however, looks very much like a description of 
what we here call "the smart set," who are by no 
means to be reckoned among the most cultivating or 
ennobling of talkers in this country. However, the 
description is well worth noting, especially by prosy 
talkers. And as for the young man fresh from Ore- 
gon or the Klondike, he may also keep the descrip- 
tion in mind. 



CHAPTER XX 

A SPECIMEN CONVERSATION, SHOWING WHAT MAY BE 
LEARNED IN HALF AN HOUR's TALK 

There has appeared in the New York Critic a series 
of "Real Conversations" between well-known people, 
one of which, by the kindness of the editor, I am 
permitted to quote. It is between Mr. William Archer, 
the dramatic critic, and Mr. William Heinemann, the 
London publisher, and I am sure the intelligent reader 
will find it interesting as well as instructive. The 
interview is supposed to take place in a garden on the 
seaboard of the Roman Campagna, sloping to the 
Mediterranean, in the winter of 1902. On the en- 
trance of Mr. Heinemann, Mr. Archer is discovered 
reading : 

Mr. Heinemann, Good morning. Don't you find 
the sun rather hot there .^^ 

W. A. I was just thinking I should have to move. 

Mr. Heinemann. Come and sit here in the shade. 
. . . What a glorious morning ! 

W. A. There's no trace of those islands — what do 
you call them? 

Mr. Heinemann. The Pontine Islands. 

W, A. There is no sign of them on the horizon. 

Mr. Heinemann. That means steady fine weather. 
When the islands are visible, rain is not far off. 



A Specimen Conversation 235 

W. A. And meanwhile in England . . . 

Mr. Heinemann. I have letters this morning — frost, 
fog, sleet, slush, every possible abomination. 

W, A, I don't wonder that people don't read books 
in such a climate as this. 

Mr. Heinemann. But you were reading when I 
came! 

W. A. Only a bad habit contracted by my ancestors 
in centuries of Scotch mists. I can't shake it off, 
even here. Confess, now, that you wouldn't like to be 
a publisher in the land of the dolce far niente (sweet 
doing nothing). 

Mr. Heinemann. Oh, there's no confessing about it. 
Reading is naturally an indoor employment, and the 
climate that tends to keep people indoors tends, other 
things being equal, to beget a nation of readers. But 
even the English climate has its drawbacks. From the 
point of view of the book-trade, the far troppo (doing 
too much) is as bad as the far niente (doing nothing). 
Not to mention the rush of business that leaves men 
no time for reading, just think how much of the aver- 
age Englishman's leisure time and spare cash goes to 
outdoor sports ! 

W. A. Then what is your general feeling as to the 
state of the book-market in England.? Are things, on 
the whole, getting better or worse .^^ 

Mr. Heinemann. Undoubtedly better — very dis- 
tinctly better. Of course, we have great difficulties to 
contend with, but we are gradually overcoming them. 

W.A. Difficulties.? Such as .? 

Mr. Heinemann. Well, there are many; but the 
fundamental difficulty is, of course, in a crowded mar- 
ket, to get books shown and seen. This some of us 
are meeting by the gradual introduction and adapta- 



236 Culture by Conversation 

tion of the Continental system of supplying books to 
the booksellers "on sale." It is my own practice, for 
instance, in the case of almost all books, except novels, 
to allow any bookseller whom we know to be trust- 
worthy to have copies of whatever books he wants "on 
sale or return." 

W, A. And you find the plan answers? 

Mr, Heinemann. Most certainly. It is the only way 
of enabling the majority of books of the better class 
to get at their public. 

W, A. What about wear and tear and depreciation 
of the stock you issue in this way ? 

Mr. Heinemann. Of course, that is an item that has 
to be allowed for. The English custom of binding all 
books before publication stands a little in the way of 
this system. A German or French paper-covered 
book, if it gets soiled or faded in the bookseller's shop, 
can be re-covered for a fraction of a farthing ; where- 
as in England it may cost ninepence, or a shilling, or 
more, to re-bind a shop-soiled book. That is only 
one of several drawbacks to the system that conserva- 
tive members of the Publishers' Association enlarge 
upon. I admit all these drawbacks, fully, freely. But 
I say that the greatest drawback of all is to fail to 
sell your books. 

W. A . You had a good deal to do with the founding 
of the Publishers' Association, had you not? 

Mr. Heinemann. Yes, I believe I may call myself 
one of the prime movers in that matter. 

W, A. And of course, having to deal with English- 
men of business, you found plenty of opposition — 
plenty of sheer stick-in-the-mud inertia — to be over- 
come ? 

Mr, Heinemann. Something of that, yes. But I 



A Specimen Conversation 237 

also found ready and intelligent support. And, as a 
matter of fact, the Publishers' Associatioru, though 
only six years old, is a great success, and has already 
done wonderful work. 

W, A, To the outsider, it certainly seems to stand 
to reason that publishers ought to organise themselves 
for concerted action — just as doctors, barristers, solic- 
itors, even authors and actors, do. 

Mr. Heinemann. As you say, it stands to reason. 
But the thing that stands to reason is precisely the 
thing that the mind of the majority is slowest to 
accept. 

TF. A. Yes, I suppose we English have an hereditary 
bias towards methods of unreason. What, then, 
should you say was the special function of the Pub- 
lishers' Association? 

Mr, Heinemann. Broadly speaking, its function is 
to educate the booksellers. You may think it a para- 
dox, but it's not far from the literal truth, that many 
booksellers in England never see a book of any value 
or importance, but live entirely by peddling novels, 
old and new. The book-trade will never be in a thor- 
oughly healthy condition until we have a body of 
selected and trained booksellers all over the country, 
to whom we give depots of books on sale, and say to 
them : "Now, sell these — don't merely wait till people 
come to buy them, but sell them — that is your busi- 
ness 1" A bookseller who really knew his business — I 
am speaking especially of the country and suburban 
trade — would never bother about the chance customers 
who came to his shop. 

W. A. Hallo! isn't that going rather too far.^^ 

Mr. Heinemann. Oh, don't misunderstand me. He 
would see that the people who came to his shop had all 



238 Culture by Conversation 

possible attention, and a great deal more intelligent 
attention than they receive at present. What I mean 
is, that he would regard them as the accidents and 
accessories of his business, the main part of which 
would be the fostering and supplying of a steady de- 
mand among regular customers, many of whom might 
not come to his shop twice in the year. 

TF. A, Then how would he get at them? 

Mr, Heinemann. In various ways. Largely through 
prospectuses and circulars — of the skilled use of 
which the English bookseller has as yet no idea. But 
in many cases he would put the actual books before 
the people who he knew would be likely to want them. 
Look at our scores of large towns inhabited mainly by 
people of means and leisure — who ought to be the 
backbone of the reading public — and you will find 
that there the bookselling trade is conducted with in- 
credible negligence and stupidity. Ask a bookseller 
in Brighton, or Bath, or Hastings, whether he has 
even a list of possible customers for special profes- 
sional books, and he will tell you that he has never 
thought of keeping one. But every German book- 
seller, for instance, has not only a list, but a carefully 
classified list, of his clientele, and can tell at a glance 
how many he can rely upon to buy this book, how 
many to buy that. To take an obvious example, he 
knows that such and such a doctor is a throat special- 
ist: he sends to his house, without waiting for an 
order, a new book on diseases of the larynx ; and if 
the doctor doesn't want it, he fetches it away again in 
a day or two. Another doctor is a chest specialist : to 
him he sends a book on the Nordrach open-air cure — 
and so forth. 

W, A. But don't you think that people in England 



A Spccimeii Conversation 239 

would be apt to be rather irritated by this system of 
"pushf ulness" ? 

Mr. Heineviann. Certainly, if it were not applied 
with intelligence and tact. But bookselling ought to 
be a skilled, and a highly skilled, employment — that 
is precisely the point I am insisting on. You, I dare 
say, collect books on the drama? 

TF. A. Yes, in a very modest way. 

Mr. Heineviann. Well, if I deluge you with pros- 
pectuses of books on horse-racing or bimetallism, you 
think me a fool, and throw my circulars into the waste- 
paper basket, with comments to that effect. But I 
don't suppose you would be irritated if I sent you a 
prospectus of a book, say, on the French stage — or, 
even for inspection, the book itself? 

W. A. I should probably call down on you the curse 
appointed for those who lead us into temptation — but 
I should very likely succumb. 

Mr. Heinemann. The long and the short of it is, 
the bookseller should not be a mere penny-in-the-slot 
machine, but an intelligent intermediary between the 
publisher and the reading public. That is why I am 
utterly opposed to the mixing up of bookselling with 
other trades, and will always move heaven and earth 
to check the tendency. 

W. A. Yes, I can see the importance of what you 
say. It would certainly be an immense advantage to 
literature, and indeed to the intellectual machinery of 
the nation as a whole, if booksellers as a class were 
educated men who took an intelligent interest in their 
calling. But what is the chance of attracting such 
men to the business ? 

Mr. Heinemann. To an intelligent man, is there any 
branch of commerce that ought to be more attractive? 



240 Culture by Conversation 

Why, in Germany even the assistants in a bookseller's 
shop are men of education, often university men. 
Bookselling is there regarded as one of the liberal pro- 
fessions. And why should it not be? Last year I 
attended the Congress of Booksellers and Publishers at 
Leipzig. There were four hundred representatives 
present from every part of Germany ; and a lady of 
exceptional insight who was present at some of the 
sittings remarked that it was very seldom you saw in 
any public body so many notably intelligent physiog- 
nomies. 

W, A, Speaking of Germany, I wish you would ex- 
plain a matter that has always puzzled me. Who 
finances the enormous scientific and philological litera- 
ture of Germany? The press teems with long and 
learned treatises, the mere type-setting of which must 
cost considerable sums, and which cannot possibly have 
a large sale. Can you explain to me how this vast 
literature is kept a-going? 

Mr, Heinemann. Yes, I can — by the scientific or- 
ganisation of the book-trade. Of course, there are 
other things to be taken into account. In the first 
place, Germany abounds in small "endowments of re- 
search." It swarms with professors and "docents," 
each with his small salaried post, living with a fru- 
gality incredible to an Englishman of similar status, 
and devoting his life to his Fach^ his special study, out 
of sheer love of it. It is these men that write the 
books you speak of. 

W. A. Oh, yes, I quite understand how they come 
to be written; it is the fact of their ever getting 
printed and published that puzzles me. 

Mr, Heinemann. Well, of course the cost of manu- 
facture is somewhat less in Germany than in England. 



A Specimen Convei^sation 241 

But that isn't the real secret. It is, as I say, the scien- 
tific organisation of the book-trade. You see, the 
men that write these books also read and must possess 
these books. Each of them must have the books of 
his own special study — they are the tools of his trade. 
Well, the booksellers know this ; and, all over the 
country, they know how to get at these men with the 
greatest certainty and the least expense. You know 
how many specialist magazines there are in Ger- 
many — archiv for this, that, and the other thing. 
Why, there are two or three in connection with Eng- 
lish literature alone — Angelsachsische Studien, Eng- 
lische Studien, and so forth. Each of these will have 
its constant body of subscribers, and the subscribers 
to the magazines may be confidently reckoned upon to 
buy the books appertaining to the same study, which 
are often merely the overflow from the magazines — 
treatises too long for insertion. Then there are a 
great number of university libraries and similar insti- 
tutions, which must have all scientific publications. 
Thus the sale of one of these learned works can be 
foretold almost to a copy. And remember that there 
are no advertising expenses to be reckoned with. Lit- 
erary advertisements are almost unknown in Germany, 
except in the case of big productions, such as a popu- 
lar encyclopaedia. For most books only one advertise- 
ment is needed — in the Buchhdndler Borsenhlatt. 
This paper is read conscientiously every morning by 
every bookseller throughout the length and breadth of 
Germany ; and, knowing his clientele to a nicety, he 
knows almost to a nicety how many copies of any 
given book he must write for.* 

*The following figures, from the Publishers' Weekly, show- 
ing the output of books for 1903, will strongly confirm 



242 Culture by Conversation 

W, A, Then it seems to me that newspaper pro- 
prietors ought to pray night and morning that the 
Enghsh book-trade may never be "scientifically organ- 
ised" on the German model. What would the poor 
newspapers do without the publishers' advertisements ? 
But, not being a newspaper proprietor, I am bound to 
admit that our system of advertising, in literature as 
in other things — but more especially in literature — 
strikes me as gigantically and foolishly wasteful. It 
is like firing volleys in the dark and without definite 
aim. For every bullet that finds its billet — for every 
advertisement that catches the eye predestined for it, 
and awakens a desire to buy and read — a thousand 
must go hopelessly astray and spend themselves in 
vain. 

Mr. Heinemann. Oh, not quite so bad as that, I 
hope. In fact, an advertisement — though the bad or- 
ganisation of our book-trade forces us to rely too 
much upon it — is extraordinarily effective in selling 
a book. Of course, no one who knows his business 
advertises at random. There is art in that as in 
everything else. We may not aim at the individual 
reader, but we can aim pretty accurately at a class. 
Like the gunners of the Scuola d'Artiglieria, we can 
calculate our range and drop our shells with tolerable 
precision, even over an "unseen target." Of course, 
there is a great deal, too, in the choice of the weapon — 
the particular paper we select in order to get at a 
particular section of the public. 

Mr. Heinemann's statements: Books and pamphlets published 
in Germany, 26,906; in France, 12,199; in Great Britain, 7,381; 
in the United States, 7,833. The Germans are the largest 
book publishers in the world. 



A Specimen Conversation 243 

W. A. Which has the greater influence on the for- 
tunes of a book — the reviews or the advertisements ? 

Mr. Ileinemann. The advertisements, most emphat- 
ically. The glory of reviewing is departed ; it is not 
at all what it used to be. I don't mean to say that it 
is less able. I think, on the contrary, that the average 
ability of reviewers is steadily rising. But for some 
reason or other the review has ceased to bite on the 
public mind as it used to. The days are past when a 
single article in the Times or the Spectator could 
make the fortune of a book. These romantic inci- 
dents don't occur nowadays. Our reviewers are excel- 
lent critics, but for some reason or other they don't 
excite such interest in the books they deal with as the 
reviewers of the past seem to have excited. 

W. A. Is not that because no single paper is now- 
adays regarded with the devout and childlike faith 
which the last generation used to accord to its two or 
three great oracles ^ But surely, though no individual 
paper may have the influence it once had, you must 
underrate the general influence of reviews on the sale 
of a book. For myself, though I am a little behind 
the scenes in reviewing, and know very well that re- 
viewers are human and fallible, yet I am often influ- 
enced by a review either to buy a book or to order it 
at the library. 

Mr, Heinemann. Perhaps ; but how much of tener 
do you feel that you have got out of a review all that 
you want to know about a book, and need not trouble 
about it any further? The function of the literary 
weekly, or the literary page of the daily paper, is 
largely to give people a superficial acquaintance with 
current literature, while saving them the expense of 
book-buying and the time involved in book-reading. I 



244 Culture by Conversation 

really do not know why we publishers support — as we 
do, almost entirely — the literary weeklies. They are 
of no proportionate service to us, either as organs of 
criticism or as mediums of advertising — except, per- 
haps, those that are practically trade organs, in which 
capacity they fulfil some of the functions of the 
Buchhdndler Borscnblatt. 

W. A. Then they are not the weapons you rely upon 
in bombarding the reading public ? 

Mr. Heinemann. Most decidedly not. If they are 
effective organs of publicity at all, it is only in the 
case of a very special class of books. For getting at 
the great reading public, the popular newspaper is 
alone effective. But it is so effective that well-directed 
advertising will often counteract the harm done by 
the most damaging review, even in the most influential 
paper — I mean, of course, if the book has any real 
element of attraction in it. 

W, A. But reviews, I presume, are useful for quot- 
ing in advertisements.? 

Mr. Heinemann. Yes, that is effective, if skilfully 
done. 

W. A. Rather a large "if." I am often struck 
with what seems to me the extraordinary stupidity with 
which "Opinions of the Press" are selected. 

Mr. Heinemann. No doubt they are often carelessly 
compiled by unintelligent subordinates. But you 
must remember, too, that in the case of many books 
they are intended to appeal to readers of a very differ- 
ent class from yourself. You are, as you say, behind 
the scenes, and consequently in a position to discount 
a good deal that the man in the street will take for 
gospel. 

W. A, Tell me, then, about the man in the street. 



A Specimen Conversation 245 

As you take, on the whole, a hopeful view of the book- 
trade, I suppose I may assume that you think the 
average intelligence of the man in the street is look- 
ing up? 

Mr. Heinemann. I don't know that that assumption 
is quite logical. Improvement in the book-trade would 
not necessarily imply improvement in public intelli- 
gence. There is an unintelligent as well as an intelli- 
gent reading public, and it might quite well happen 
that the book-trade was flourishing mainly through its 
appeal to the lower, and not the higher, class. But as 
a matter of fact, I don't think this is the case. The 
intelligence of the middle and lower-middle classes in 
the matter of book-buying is, on the whole, improving. 
I don't know that I can say as much for the wealthier 
classes. Many a man, where his father would have 
spent a pound in books, will now spend a guinea on 
an opera stall, and sixpence on a magazine. 

W. A. I fancy the fashion of collecting books — 
forming libraries of handsome, well-bound editions — 
has gone out a good deal. 

Mr. Heinemann. Yes ; but, on the other hand, peo- 
ple of moderate means have now much more encour- 
agement than they had a generation ago to form their 
own little libraries. Look how execrable was the 
manufacture of books during all the middle years of 
the last centur}^, from the days of the Pickerings 
down to our own times ! A reasonably attractive edi- 
tion of a classical author was scarcely to be had for 
love or money. Now — within the last fifteen years or 
so — the improvement has been enormous. Dent and 
other publishers have done excellent service to litera- 
ture and to the book-trade by their delightful editions 
of the classics. I can speak without egoism on this 



246 Culture by Conversation 

subject, for I have done nothing myself in the way 
of classical reprints: the hterature of the day has 
always interested me more. But I greatly value the 
work done by others in this direction. It is not only 
good in itself — it helps current literature, as well, by 
enabling people, at a reasonable expenditure, to form 
the nucleus of a handsome and attractive private 
library. I am afraid I must admit that a good many 
people buy the Shakespeares and Scotts and Macau- 
lays, with which the press teems, rather as furniture 
than as literature. 

W, A, Like the lady who always bought books that 
were bound in red — it was such a nice warm colour for 
a room ! 

Mr, Heinemann. No doubt some such motive pre- 
vails in some cases. But books, after all, are a heavy 
and expensive form of wall-paper. I think we may 
take it that most book-buyers buy to read ; and I be- 
lieve that the number who buy intelligently to read 
intelligently is increasing year by year. 

W. A. It is pleasant to hear any one, in these days, 
talking optimistically. What do you say, then, to 
the sixpenny edition — ^the book that is bought to be 
skimmed and thrown away ? You are not one of those 
who think that it is ruining literature? 

Mr. Heinemann, The sixpenny edition — this is 
nothing new I am telling you — is simply the pub- 
lishers' measure of self-defence against the cheap mag- 
azine. It ranks with periodicals rather than with 
books. The work published in sixpenny editions is 
probably, on the average, better than the matter sup- 
plied in the cheap magazines ; and anjrthing that 
tends to beget and foster the habit of reading — be it 
sixpenny editions, circulating libraries, public libraries, 



A Specimen Convei'sation 247 

or what not — is, in the long run, good. The reading 
habit is like the opium habit: once acquired, it can- 
not be shaken off. 

W, A. I'm afraid that as regards scrap papers and 
the literature of snippets, your simile is only too just. 
It is a narcotic to thought, an opiate to intelligence. 
For my part, I welcome the sixpenny edition, be- 
cause it seems to me that it must in some measure com- 
pete, not only with the cheap magazine, but with the 
penny patchwork and halfpenny rag-bag. Any read- 
ing that requires a continuous effort of attention is 
better than the idle nibbling at odds and ends that 
passes for reading with so many people. Do you find 
that the average life of a book — even of a successful 
book — is falling off? 

Mr. Heinemann. Most certainly it is. If you come 
to think of it, how could it be otherwise? We live so 
much faster now, year by year ; and the claims on our 
attention are so increasingly numerous and urgent. 
Even within my own experience of eighteen years or 
so, I find one book elbow another out much more 
rapidly than it used to. 

W. A. Then does a successful book live an intenser 
life in the short span allotted to it? 

Mr. Heinemann. Intenser? Well, I don't know how 
you would measure intensity. But of course there is 
always a steadily growing public to appeal to — not 
only owing to actual increase of population, but owing 
to the spread of education. Remember, it is only a 
little over thirty years since the first Education Act 
was passed. 

W. A. Then, apart from temporary disturbances 
of the market, such as that caused by the war, should 
you say that the average sale of a successful novel 



248 Culture by Conversation 

was greater to-day than it used to be twenty years 
ago ? 

Mr. He'inemann. The comparison is very difficult to 
make, for in those days, of course, the three-volume 
novel, costing nominally a guinea and a half, held the 
field. But I think one may say with tolerable con- 
fidence that a successful novel has nowadays far more 
readers in the first three or four months of its life 
than it had then. 

TF. A, If, then, there is small hope of longevity for 
a modern book, does that affect your policy in the 
choice of matter for publication .^^ Since the percent- 
age of books that can be expected to make a perma- 
nent success is small, and becoming smaller, do you 
relinquish the search for such books, and look out 
rather for those that are likely to make a temporary 
sensation before they sink into oblivion — pamphlet- 
books, or, as Ruskin used to say, mere supplements to 
the daily newspaper .f' 

Mr. Heinemann. Oh, no; that would be the most 
short-sighted policy. Every publisher will tell you 
that the books he really wants are what the French 
call livres de fond — books that are in steady, continu- 
ous demand. 

W. A. And even among novels such books are still 
to be found, eh? Now, without going into individual 
instances, or in any way trespassing on delicate 
ground, what sort of novel commands the largest and 
steadiest sale? 

Mr. Heinemann. Without doubt the story — the well- 
told story. From the point of view of enduring popu- 
larity, give me the writer who can "spin a good yam." 
Look, for instance, at the steady vogue of Miss 
Braddon ! The smart society novel, and the moral or 



A Specimen Conversation 249 

religious tract, may set people talking for a month 
or so, and have a large sale ; but they very soon drop 
out and are forgotten. 

W, A. And can you tell me if this shortness of life 
is characteristic of the American novel? One hears 
every day of gigantic "booms" in American fiction : 
does one novel drive out its predecessor there, as here ? 
Or is there any novelist who is establishing a perma- 
nent popularity, like that of Dickens or Thackeray, 
or even of our second-rate nineteenth-century men, 
Reade, Kingsley, or Trollope? 

Mr. Heinemann. I don't hear of any — I wish I did. 
Many of their huge successes, especially in so-called 
historical romance, are even worse trash than the 
things the public devours on this side. 

W, A. Do you take the same encouraging view of 
the American book-trade that you do of the English.? 
I presume the conditions are very similar. 

Mr. Heinemann, Well, the American publishers 
have one great disadvantage to contend against, and 
one great advantage on their side. The disadvantage 
lies in the fact that so much of the retail trade has 
fallen into the hands of the enormously powerful de- 
partment stores, where you can buy everything from 
a shoelace to an edition of Horace. 

W. A. I see. You mean that the intervention of 
these stores — ^Wanamaker's, Siegel Cooper's, and so 
forth — prevents the development of a class of skilled 
specialists in bookselling, such as you think we shall 
one day have in England? 

Mr. Heinemann. Yes. It is certainly not to the 
advantage of literature that it should reach the public 
through the medium of the dry-goods store. Spare 
me the obvious pun ! 



250 Culture by Conversation 

W. A. Well, then, what is the great advantage that 
the American publisher enjoys? 

Mr. Heinemann. The power of getting direct at a 
very large public without the intervention of the 
bookseller at all, through the medium of a properly 
organised post-office. Do you realise that books and 
magazines can go through the post in America for 
one cent a pound, in place of our fourpence, or eight 
cents, a pound? American publishers do an immense 
business in this way. 

W, A. But a man must hear of a book before he 
can order it to be posted to him. How do the pub- 
lishers get at their postal customers? Through cir- 
culars? Newspaper advertisements? 

Mr, Heinemann. Partly ; but especially through 
the magazines, which are splendid advertising medi- 
ums. [The educational publishers send the book 
itself — as a specimen !] Do you know why the Ameri- 
cans have half a dozen first-rate illustrated magazines, 
while we have only one — The Pall Mall? It is simply 
because of the facilities for distribution offered by the 
post-office. I can tell you, we stand greatly in need of 
another Rowland Hill here in England ; but I suppose 
that sort of man comes only once in a century. Our 
magazines, such as they are, get at the public through 
6,000 retailers, and Smith & Son's 780 bookstalls. 
Now, why should not the profits of this mechanism of 
distribution go into the nation's exchequer? 

W. A. But do you mean to say that this one-cent 
rate actually pa3^s the American postal department? 

Mr, Heinemann, I can't give you figures on the 
point; but clearly it wouldn't be continued if it in- 
volved a loss. And if it simply covers expenses in 
America, it could not fail to bring in a large profit in 



A Specimen Conversation 251 

England, where the distances are so much shorter. 
But, speaking of the American book-market, there is 
another point that must not be overlooked — the enor- 
mous success of the subscription edition. 

W, A. The subscription edition! What does that 
mean, precisely.? 

Mr. Heinemann, Why, the special edition of stand- 
ard books and sets of books got up to be sold by travel- 
ling canvassers. 

W. A. I know the book-agent is a stock figure in 
the repertory of the American humourist. So he is 
really a success, is he? 

Mr, Heinemann. Undoubtedly. In thousands and 
thousands of American houses, especially in country 
districts, you will find quite a handsome little library, 
bought from the travelling agents. 

W. A. And do the leading publishers sell books in 
this way ? 

Mr. Heinemann. Indeed they do — all of them. But 
not the same editions as they put on the general mar- 
ket. There is always something special about the 
subscription edition — superior illustrations, or bind- 
ing, or both. 

W. A. Is not the method we have heard so much of 
recently — the method of selling enormously advertised 
sets of books on the instalment principle — simply a 
development of the American "subscription" method? 

Mr. Heinemann. Yes, it is ; and it might have been 
a very valuable development, only that, unfortunately, 
it was discounted by being applied in the first instance 
to a set of books that nobody really wanted. 

W. A. The Encyclopcedia Britannical Do you 
mean to say that all that gigantic advertising was not 
successful? 



252 Culture by Conversation 

Mr. He'memann. Successful in selling the books? 
Oh, yes. I have no special information, but I have 
every reason to believe it was enormously successful. 
What I mean is that, when people had got the books, 
they found they didn't want them. They were wholly 
out of date. The prestige of the Times had been in- 
discreetly used to persuade people to buy an article 
that was to a great extent useless ; and I believe this 
has made people suspicious of the whole system. Com- 
pare the twenty-years-old Encyclopedia Britannica, 
for instance, with Brockhaus's great Conversations- 
Lexikon, which is reprinted and brought up to date 
every year! 

W. A. What! Every year? 

Mr. Heinemann. Yes ; it runs to sixteen volumes in 
all, and four volumes are reprinted every three months. 

W. A. But you think that if the method of mam- 
moth advertisement had been applied in the first place 
to a better-chosen publication it would have estab- 
lished itself in popular favour and done good service? 

Mr. Heinemann. Yes, I think the method was sound, 
if only the property had been equally so. And now, 
if we are to catch the afternoon train for Frascati, I 
think we had better go in and see about lunch. 

W. A. One moment more. I see you have lately 
been engaged in a controversy on the subject of the 
literary agent. What, in your view, is the head and 
front of his offending P 

Mr. Heinemann. Oh, I have no special objection to 
an author's employing an agent, if he thinks it worth 
while to do so ; only I don't see where the advantage 
comes in. It seems to me that he pays a very large 
price for a very small service, and often for no service 
ataU. 



A Specimen Conversation 253 

W. A. But if the author happens to be wholly in- 
competent in matters of business, it is surely worth 
his while to pay for expert assistance. There are 
people — not mere Harold Skimpoles in other respects, 
I hope — to whom figures convey no meaning whatever. 
They can no more understand a publisher's contract 
than they can a Tuscan inscription. If such people 
have to make their livelihood by selling the books they 
write, is it not reasonable and natural that they should 
call in expert assistance? 

Mr. Heinemann. By all means ! let them employ a 
solicitor to look after their business interests. 

W. A. But, then, a solicitor who has acquired ex- 
perience of this class of business will become to all 
intents and purposes a literary agent. 

Mr. Heinemann. With this fundamental difference: 
that the solicitor will transact your business for a 
stated fee, whereas the literary agent claims a per- 
centage on your profits. It passes my comprehension 
how any author of the smallest standing can think it 
to his interest to pay an income-tax of ten per cent., 
or even of five per cent., to his literary agent. A 
solicitor would do for five pounds all that an agent 
does for fifty. 

W. A. But what about an agent's special knowledge 
of the market — where to "place" a book to best ad- 
vantage, and so forth ? 

Mr. Heinemann. I assure you that is all nonsense. 
It must be a very unintelligent author indeed who 
does not know all that need be known about the mar- 
ket. Remember, I am speaking of the market for 
books: as regards the "serialising" or "syndicating" 
of literary matter, the case is different. There, I 
admit, the agent has his uses, and perhaps also in the 



254 Culture by Conversation 

case of an author living at a great distance from his 
market — in America or Australia. But come along 
now, or we shall really be late. We can resume the 
discussion this afternoon, if you like, at "Tusculum, 
beautiful Tusculum." 

W. A. I wonder if Cicero employed a literary 
agent ? 

Mr. Heinemann. Not he! He was far too good a 
man of business. 

[^Exeunt ambo,~\ 

Now, just imagine how differently this conversation 
might have turned out had Mr. Archer, on hearing of 
the "fog, frost, sleet, and slush" in England, spoken 
of the difference of climate and the different condition 
of the people in the two countries — how that one, 
with a rough, rainy, cold, foggy climate, has bred a 
prosperous, intelligent, industrious people, and the 
other, with a bright, sunny, beautiful climate, has 
bred a people that are nearly the reverse. And then 
the causes of all this, the history, the experience of the 
two races — what a sub j ect for a conversation ! It was 
this subject that gave Lord Macaulay occasion for 
that striking and brilliant contrast which he draws 
in his "History of England" between Scotland, with 
its stem climate and sterile soil, and Italy, with its 
smiling climate and fertile soil. 



PART III 

SOME TABLE-TALK NOTES FUN, FACTS AND FANCIES 

THINGS WISE, WITTY AND COMICAL 



"Fragments of this sort may be regarded as literary 
seed-corn, in which there may be many a barren grainy 
yet some may sprout." — Novalis. 

"I believe I have the popular reputation of being a 
story-teller," said President Lincoln to a deputation 
who waited upon him ; "but I do not deserve the name in 
its general sense; for it is not the story itself, but its 
purpose, or effect, that interests me. I often avoid a 
long and useless discussion by others, or a laborious 
explanation on my part by a short story that illustrates 
my point of view. So, too, the sharpness of a refusal or 
the edge of a rebuke may be blunted by an appropriate 
story, so as to save wounded feeling and yet serve the 
purpose."— Reported by Colonel Silas W. Burt in The 
Omtv/ry, 



TABLE-TALK NOTES 

"Let it serve for table-talk." — Shakespeare. 

When I was a young man I used to cut out anything 
really good and interesting I found in a newspaper 
or magazine. But I found, after a time, that these 
things often reappeared in book-form or in pamphlet- 
form ; so I gave it up long ago. But in the last year 
or two I determined to cut out such things or such in- 
cidents as were really interesting, amusing, or instruc- 
tive for conversation ; and I must say that it will go 
hard if some of these paragraphs do not afford, espe- 
cially to young persons, material for conversations 
that will illustrate a point, adorn a tale, or point a 
moral in any conversation. Nor are such things to be 
despised. Even Cicero and Lord Bacon made col- 
lections of such things, and the great Daniel Webster, 
who loved to entertain his friends at his hospitable 
board, "had," says Edward Everett, "a keen sense of 
the ludicrous, and repeated or listened to a humorous 
anecdote with infinite glee — he delighted in anecdotes 
of eminent men, especially of eminent Americans, and 
his memory was stored with them." But let us begin. 
Some of the items are my own. 

There is an old blind man in New York, whom I have 



258 Culture by Conversation 

often helped across the street, whose constant cheer- 
fulness is to me an eloquent sermon. On the last oc- 
casion, however, the words he used on greeting me 
afforded, I thought, a good example of the inveterate- 
ness of an every-day phrase even where totally in- 
appropriate. I had not seen him for five or six 
months and was wondering what had become of him, 
when suddenly there he stood before me, at the corner 
of Pearl and Fulton streets, just about to cross the 
street. Taking him by the arm, I said to him : "Now, 
John, raise your right foot ; step right over the curb, 
and come along with me." "Why, sir," said he, recog- 
nising me at once by my voice, "I am very glad to 
see you ; I have not seen you for a long time." 

Why did he not say ''meet you," or ''speak to you?" 
He used the phrase that everybody uses, and could not 
get away from it — a good example, I imagine, of the 
force of example. It reminds me of the old saying, 
" 'I see, I see,' said the blind man, who didn't see at 
all." Most blind people are said to be cheerful and 
content. How is this to be explained.? 

***** 

Apropos of this incident, I heard the other day a bit 
of romance worth telling. A young lady, whom a 
gentleman had noticed carefully helping a blind man 
across the street, was followed by the gentleman and 
observed by him until he had found means of being 
introduced to her. The sequel may be imagined: a 
courtship ensued, which resulted in a happy mar- 
riage — a pure love match, for the gentleman was 
rich and the lady poor. And then — many young 
ladies were frequently seen helping blind men across 
the street ! 



Tahle-Talk Notes 259 

The taste of sight-seers is peculiar. What some have 
a horror of, others run to see. I have forgotten who 
that famous Englishman was who "never missed a 
hanging," but a taste for this sort of thing seems to 
be not uncommon among his countrywomen as well. 
A little English girl was asked by her teacher how 
she liked things in America, and whether she preferred 
England. "Indeed I do, ma'am," she replied; "for, 
you see, in London we lived right opposite the jail, 
and could see all the hangings !" Perhaps hers was 
the very house where Lord Tomnoddy fell asleep and 
"missed all the fun !" 

How often the indiscretion of a child makes a curious 
revelation ! A boy, who had been two days absent 
from school, on being asked why he had been absent, 
replied, quite naively: "Why, sir, a surprise party 
was coming to our house, and we had to get ready !" 
That answer is perhaps the most truthful account of 
a "surprise party" ever given. 

Horace Porter tells a better child-story than this. A 
teacher having asked one of his little scholars what 
was his father's occupation, was informed he did not 
like to tell. "Why so, my little man?" "Oh, papa 
said I shouldn't tell." "Oh, you may tell me ; I shall 
not make any use of it." "Well, sir, he is the bearded 
lady at the museum I" 



It is not always safe to ask serious questions of chil- 
dren. One is apt to get such unexpected answers. A 
bishop, examining a class, asked, "Which boys go to 
Heaven?" whereupon a youngster instantly answered, 
"Dead boys, sirl" A larger boy might have an- 
swered, "Boys that die early." On asking, "Who 



260 Culture by Conversation 

made you?" none were able to answer; then one little 
fellow put his hand up. "Well, sir?" "Please, sir, 
the little boy that God made is not here to-day 1" 



Because dogs are said to howl when any one in the 
neighbourhood is dying, many persons listen to the 
howling of a dog with superstitious awe ; and if any 
one in the house is ill, they drive the dog away in 
terror. How is this to be accounted for — ^that dogs 
often howl in the presence, or in the neighbourhood, of 
approaching death? A neighbour of mine — a shrewd 
old tobacconist, with a wonderfully sharp sense of 
smell — declares that the dog, by his acute olfactory 
organs, scents the dead or decaying body before life 
is extinct ! This theory, incredible as it seems, is prob- 
ably correct. When we recollect what wonderful feats 
the dog, by his sense of smell, has been known to per- 
form, and how unerringly he leads the way in search of 
some missing person whom he has known, this theory 
does not seem altogether improbable; and especially 
so in the case of a dying person whom the dog has 
long known and loved in life. It is well known that a 
dog instantly discerns a friend from an enemy ; in 
fact, he seems to know all those who are friendly to 
his race. There are few things more touching in the 
life of Sir Walter Scott than the fact that when he 
walked in the streets of Edinburgh nearly every dog 
he met came and fawned on him, wagged his tail at 
him, and thus showed his recognition of the friend of 
his race. 

Does not this seem to indicate that the canine race 
have a power even beyond that of human beings? 
How many of us can thus instinctively tell his friends 



Table- Talk Notes 261 

from his foes? "There Is no art," says Shakespeare, 
"to find the mind's construction in the face." 



Here is a man whose sense of smell is as keen as that 
of a dog: 

"A London physician of large practice," says an 
English paper, "asserts that owing to his extremely 
sensitive sense of smell he can foretell the coming of 
death forty-eight hours. He says that when a patient 
comes within two days of death a peculiar earthy smell 
is emitted from the body. When the fatal disease is 
slow in its progress the odour makes its appearance as 
much as three days beforehand ; but when the disease 
is of the galloping kind, the doctor says he receives 
much shorter warning. He attributes the smell to 
mortification, which begins within the body before life 
is extinct." 



We learn by contrast, by observing how different 
things are as compared with what they were. This is 
one of the great advantages of a knowledge of history, 
which does not now consist, as it formerly did, chiefly 
of descriptions of the life of camps and courts, of 
kings and cabinets, but also of the habits and manners 
of a people. I have never read anything in history 
that shows so strikingly the manners of a bygone 
age, and by contrast the progress we have made since 
then, as the following incident told by Mackenzie, the 
author of the "Man of Feeling." Mackenzie had been 
invited to a dinner party, and not being able to stand 
such huge draughts as the other guests indulged in — 
which was always regarded as a proof of manliness in 
that age — he resolved to avail himself of the only 



262 Culture by Conversation 

means of escape left to him. Having noticed several 
of his companions, who had fallen victims to their 
potations, dropping down under the table, he deter- 
mined to follow their example before he was compelled 
to do so. While lying there among the slain, of whom 
he pretended to be one, his attention was drawn to a 
small pair of hands working at his throat; and, to 
the question who it was, a child's voice replied: "Sir, 
I'm the lad that's to lowse (loosen) the neckcloths !" 

Now remember, this was not among the vulgar but 
among the more cultured class of that day ; with 
whom it was customary, at every dinner party, to 
appoint one of the household to untie the cravats of 
those who, helplessly drunk, fell under the table, and 
were in danger of dying by apoplexy or suffocation ! 



There is nothing that illustrates a truth so well as 
an example ; and the truth that all men, even the most 
obscure, are exerting in their vocation an influence on 
some one, or of some kind, is well illustrated in the 
following story. When Napoleon was marching with 
his great army through the northern part of France, 
he heard, on a Sunday morning, the ringing of a 
village church-bell, calling the people to worship. 
The sound of the bell recalled memories of early days, 
when he was wont, with his father and mother, brothers 
and sisters, to walk to church and enjoy the peaceful 
ministrations of the Sabbath day ; and the recollection 
touched him so deeply that, according to Bourrienne, 
he shed tears at the remembrance. How little that 
simple village bell-ringer imagined what an influence 
he was exerting that day ! He had done what the most 
eloquent orators of the day had never been able to do : 



Tahle-Talk Notes 263 

he had touched the great Emperor's heart and brought 
tears to his eyes. 



I don't think it pays to hire an ignorant man, even 
for the commonest labour. On a bitter cold December 
morning, I noticed an Irishman driving a wagon, 
heavily loaded with iron bars, down to the ferry at 
Hoboken. On getting on the ferry-boat, I noticed 
that he had driven his horse and wagon right up to 
the front of the boat, and that the animal, steaming 
hot and covered with perspiration, was exposed to the 
stinging blast then blowing from the north. 

"That horse will get his death, if you don't cover 
him," I said. "Have you no blanket to cover him.'' 
Don't you see the animal is in a sweat, and exposed to 
this bitter cold wind.?" 

"Och, faith !" said he, striking his hands crosswise on 
his shoulders, "I wish I was in a sweat meself !" And 
he went into the cabin and left the poor beast to his 
fate. Does it pay to hire such a man even to drive a 
cart.? If the horse were his own, he would probably 
have known better. 

All occupations, however common, require some 
knowledge. When Napoleon, who undertook to drive 
his own carriage one day, upset it on turning a comer 
too sharply, he exclaimed: "I see, now, the truth of 
the old saying, 'Every man to his trade.' " 



In addressing a popular audience, there is nothing 
like beginning with a telling or humorous story, bear- 
ing some relation to the subject in hand ; for this puts 
the audience in a good humour, disposes them to listen 



264 Culture by Conversation 

to the speaker, and helps him to feel at ease in ad- 
dressing them. 

A friend of mine, who began his address to a large 
audience somewhat hesitatingly, was told, encour- 
agingly, by the chairman, to "go ahead." "The 
chairman tells me to go ahead," said the speaker, 
"which reminds me of a story. A church organist, 
on sitting down before his organ one Sunday morn- 
ing, glanced down at the minister, and seeing he was 
a stranger, thought he would now indulge in some of 
his fine organ quavers and dulcet tones ; so calling up 
one of the choir-boys, he wrote a line and said to the 
boy, 'Give this to the man below.' The boy, not know- 
ing he meant the man who blew the organ-bellows, gave 
it to the minister, who read the message as follows: 
'Now go ahead; and keep on blowing till I tell you 
to stop !' " There was a roar ; whereupon the speaker 
continued: "Shall I keep on blowing, Mr. Chair- 
man?" "Certainly, by all means." So he went on and 
made a capital speech. 

The other day we dedicated the third of our big new 
schools ; there was a large audience ; and in my ad- 
dress I succeeded in getting them (and myself) in a 
good humour by quoting, with reference to the big 
school, the story of the Chicago girl who, on putting 
on her shoes in the morning, exclaimed: "It is a big 
thing, and I am in itP' 

After all, there is nothing a popular audience likes 
better than to be amused. Like schoolboys, they have 
come out for a good time, and want some fun as well 
as instruction. So the amusing story or humorous 
anecdote is the very salt of an address to a popular 
audience. 

« « « 4^ « 



Table- Talk Notes 265 

Here is another hint for the young orator: Dele- 
gate Mark Smith, of Arizona, has been the 
recipient of many congratulations on his speech 
yesterday. His biblical quotation has extorted 
admiration from men less familiar with the 
Scriptures. 

"Yes," said Smith modestly, "a biblical quotation is 
a good thing. Many years ago General Huston, of 
Kentucky, one of the greatest lawyers that State ever 
saw, said to me: 'In a law case, remember this: an 
apt biblical quotation, sprung at the right moment, 
win knock seven witnesses out of the box.' " 



I find by the federal report of this year (1903) that 
the total enrolment in all the schools of the United 
States, public and private, is 18,000,000 scholars, or 
one-fourth of the entire population. What a field 
for noble-minded, well-trained teachers ! These fig- 
ures are exclusive of the students in our colleges and 
universities, "The world has never before seen," says 
a New York writer, "a nation of eighty millions of 
free people with twenty millions of them in school!" 
This Is what Russia must do — then the Duma will be 
ail right. 



Though a man may speak truth when drunk, he 
seldom speaks wittily. Only an Irishman can do that. 
Dr. Tanner, a well-known Irish M. P., meeting Sir 
Ashmead Bartlett, a fellow-member, who had married 
a very wealthy lady, old enough to be his grand- 
mother, said to him : "Bartlett, you are a fool." "Oh, 
you're drunk," retorted the knight. "That's all 



266 Culture by Conversation 

right," replied Dr. Tanner; "to-morrow I shall be 
sober ; but you will still be a fool !" 



A lady, in a late legal contest, remarked : "I knew he 
was a gentleman by the way he ordered dinner." By 
what small things or trifling actions a woman per- 
ceives the character or station of a man ! A single 
word, a look, or a wave of the hand is enough. The 
way a man behaves to his servants or the way a man 
dines speaks more than words. Cardinal Richelieu 
discovered a certain gentleman to be a false noble- 
man by the way he helped himself to olives — ^he took 
them with a fork ! And the Empress Eugenie declared 
that a certain learned professor was not a gentleman 
because he spread his napkin on both knees ! 



Bernard Shaw says that "Economy, which is the 
art of making the most of hfe, is the root of all 
virtue." It is certainly the root of independence, 
pecuniary and intellectual; and it may be said, too, 
to be the root of liberality ; for only those who are 
economical have anything to give. This is strikingly 
illustrated by the story of the two London citizens who 
went about collecting money to build a hospital. They 
came to the door of a gentleman whom they heard 
scolding his servant for burning only one end of the 
long matches used at that time. "It is no use to try 
here," said one of the collectors. "Well, never mind ; 
let us try." They laid their case before the economical 
gentleman, who opened a drawer, from which he gave 
them a hundred guineas. The collectors, in surprise, 
told him what they had overheard. "That," said the 



Table- Talk Notes 267 

gentleman, "is how I can be liberal in this case — I 
am economical in all else." 



"No man in public life," said Junius, "can act or 
speak fearlessly, except he be pecuniarily indepen- 
dent." 

"American political life," said General Logan, "is a 
great ocean whose shores are strewn with the wrecks 
of young men." What a warning to guard against 
temptation ! 



When I was a little boy, I had a bit of experience 
with another boy that was almost as good as that of 
Franklin with the man who had an axe to grind. 

One day, when I was about twelve years old, I was 
sent off on an errand, just before a shower, with a 
good stout umbrella in my hand. The shower came 
on suddenly ; and I was marching along safely under 
my umbrella, when a well-dressed young fellow, a little 
older than I, and of some pretensions to rank, whom 
I knew by sight but not to speak to, came running 
under my umbrella to save himself from a ducking. 
He was awfully kind to me ; told me I was a mighty 
nice boy to have such a good umbrella; and showed 
me every attention, until his turn was served. On 
meeting him some days afterwards, I naturally went 
up and spoke to him as one with whom I was ac- 
quainted. To my surprise and chagrin, he cast a 
scornful glance at me, turned on his heel, and walked 
away without saying a word to me. 

I have often thought of this in after life. When the 
Hon. Mr. Highup, in some crisis in his career, sud- 



268 Culture hy Conversation 

denly became very polite to me, I have thought : "He 
wants to take advantage of my umbrella ; that's all." 
Or when Miss McFlimsy requested graciously to as- 
sist me in my work, I knew she had heard of my pro- 
tecting umbrella and wanted to get under it. Oh, if 
we could only get at the heart of some people, who 
pay us such civil attentions, how often we would find 
that their only motive was "to get under our um- 
brella !" 



The proverbs of a nation are the distilled wit of gen- 
erations of its people; and the true wit of the race 
is oftentimes in proportion to the truth and beauty of 
its proverbs. Lord John Russell defined a proverb — 
as "the wit of one and the wisdom of many." Of all 
races, few possess more beautiful sayings than the 
Irish. "The silent mouth is melodious." And another 
saying, inculcating a charity which is spiritually 
needed in this modern world of ours, is that which tells 
us "Our eyes should be blind in the abode of another," 
and "A gentleman should look at a lady's defects with 
his eyes shut." The beautiful faith and the magnifi- 
cent optimism of the Irish race are well pictured in the 
proverb, "God never shuts one door but He opens 
two." "Autumn days come softly, quickly, like the 
running of a hound upon a moor," is poetic, vivid 
truth. And here is a sharp, satirical one that cuts 
several ways at the same time: "A poem ought to be 
well made at first, for there is many a one to spoil it 
afterwards." 



Could there be a more felicitous conception than that 
of the Persian poet : 



Table- Talk Notes 269 

"On parents' knees, a naked new-born child, 
Thou hast wept while all around thee smiled! 
So live, that when thou nearest thy long last sleep, 
Thou shalt smile while all around thee weep 1" 



With most literary men — generally the most happy 
• — writing is simply a hobby or a pastime, not a 
trade. They have some other means of earning a 
living; they follow something else as a profession, 
and give only their leisure time, and especially only 
their inspired moments, to literary work. When they 
have something to say, they say it ; and then turn their 
minds to other things. Without some other occupa- 
tion for bread-winning, the mind of a literary man 
is apt to become twisted and distorted. Dr. Holmes 
knew this ; so he stuck to his trade or profession to 
the end of his life. He was a wise man, and conse- 
quently lived a happy life. So also with that sunny 
spirit, Charles Lamb, and many others. Even Walter 
Scott never depended on literature for a living. He 
knew, as Dr. Holmes did, the danger of entire devo- 
tion to literature. Look at Dickens, Bulwer Lytton, 
Byron, Landor, Carlyle; what a miserable existence 
each of them had! 

So long as Hugh Miller worked at his trade, his life 
was sweet, cheerful, happy. He gained his bread by 
manual labour, wrote only when he felt like it, and en- 
joyed to the full the common blessings of life. But 
when he took to writing and thinking alone, it crazed 
him, and he ended by suicide. Goethe came near suf- 
fering a similar fate; at one time he slept for weeks 
with a pistol under his pillow, meditating suicide. 
Well was it for him that Weimar's duke gave him 



270 Culture by Conversation 

other work to do, and left him only a part of his time 
for literature. 

Daily-bread work kept them in sympathy with their 
kind, with their fellow-workers and daily companions, 
and prevented any one of them from becoming a 
monomaniac like Landor, or a cynic like Carlyle, or a 
crank like Ruskin, or an aimless dreamer like Cole- 
ridge. Macaulay, knowing and feeling this, used to go 
down to one of the government offices and toil every 
day for hours at some ordinary clerk work. He knew 
that the overstrained brain brings on misery of some 
kind, and he wisely worked with his hands to prevent 
it. Tolstoi works with his hands from other motives ; 
but it is well that he does so from any motive. In 
fact, many colleges are now planned on the principle 
of work and study. 



It will, I think, be found that as a general thing men 
of great undertakings and great conceptions are large 
men and good eaters. Marlborough and Bliicher and 
Bismarck were big men and good eaters. So were Sir 
Walter Scott and Dr. Johnson and Handel. It is 
related of the latter that one day he stopped at an 
inn and ordered dinner; then, after waiting a long 
while for the dinner to be served, he inquired what was 
the reason. "I am waiting for the company," replied 
the landlord. "Bring along the dinner!" cried Han- 
del ; "I am the company 1" 



Here is a scientific fact which should be read in sten- 
torian tones to every school-trustee and every teacher 
in the United States. It is from an address by Dr. 



Table-Talk Notes 271 

Storrs, before the Connecticut Medical Society, at 
one of its annual conventions : 

"We estimate that a school-room of fifty pupils would 
throw off in the form of cutaneous and pulmonary ex- 
halation, in one month of five hours each day, seven 
hundred and fifty pounds, which contains much 
putrescible matter, and, in rooms deficient in ventila- 
tion, is precipitated and gives in its decay the peculiar 
odour of the badly ventilated room. These respira- 
tory impurities furnish the best possible conditions for 
the growth and dissemination of microbes. 

"Children from homes infected with germ diseases, 
consumption, scarlet fever, and diphtheria, will poison 
the air of a room, unless the floating germs are car- 
ried off by fresh currents of air. The air space al- 
lowed for each child in the schools in Hartford is two 
hundred and twenty-five cubic feet, with the air to 
be changed three times per hour. This is about one- 
third of the amount needed." 

How necessary soap and water, paint and whitewash, 
are to every schoolhouse at least once a year ! 

I have been informed that in 1848, or thereabouts, 
when the cholera came to New York, and the hospitals 
were filled, some hospital managers erected tents for 
the sick in the hospital grounds ; and then it was found 
that while most of those in the hospitals died, nearly 
all those in the tents recovered! So much for fresh 
air. 

***** 

And here is another item (from the Popular Science 
Monthly) well worth remembering: 

"Nature takes the time when one is lying down to 
give the heart a rest, and that organ consequently 
makes ten strokes less a minute than when one is in an 



272 Culture by Conversation 

upright posture. Multiplying that by 60 minutes gives 
600 strokes. Therefore in eight hours spent in lying 
down the heart is saved nearly 5,000 strokes, and as 
the heart pumps six ounces of blood with each stroke, 
it lifts 30,000 ounces less of blood in a night of eight 
hours in bed than when one is in an upright position. 
As the blood flows so much more slowly through the 
veins while one is lying down, extra coverings must 
then supply the warmth usually furnished by circu- 
lation." 



What people, do you think, are the longest lived in 
New York City? And how do they manage to live so 
long? A writer in a New York paper shows, by 
facts and figures, that the Jews are the longest lived ; 
and that the reason is, they are the most temperate, 
not only in drink but in food, and are consequently 
willingly insured by all life-insurance companies. He 
shows, further, that the Irish are, by reason of their 
too great affiliation with the saloon, decreasing in lon- 
gevity, and that the same is the case with the Germans, 
whose beer-drinking habits bring on kidney troubles 
and shorten their lives. The Swedes and Norwegians, 
who are usually engaged in farming in America, are 
also among the long-lived people. It was Herbert 
Spencer who said that the American people lived at 
too high a pressure, and that in learning how to work 
they were forgetting how to play. This is why so 
many native Americans die early of nervous diseases. 
We must preach a little less of the gospel of work and 
more of the gospel of rest and recreation. What bet- 
ter rest than that of pleasant conversation? 
♦ * 4(f * * 



Table-Talk Azotes 273 

Dr. Weber's rules, which may be summed up in the 
Greek maxim, "Nothing in excess," are worth remem- 
bering : 

Most of us eat too much, and for a man making no 
special demand on his strength 4% ounces of nitrog- 
enous food and 31/2 ounces of fats or other hydro- 
carbons per day are ample. Sleep, too, should not be 
prolonged beyond six or seven hours, according to 
sex ; and it may be doubted whether the frequent naps 
to which old age is so naturally disposed do not give 
occasions to the macrophagi, of which they are prompt 
to take advantage. Wine, which has been called the 
blood of the aged, has as often proved their bane, 
and should be taken sparingly. Exercise — constant, 
daily and regular — is of the greatest advantage. 

***** 

It may seem contrary to reason and experience to say 
that it is not the strong and vigorous that live long, 
but those of a weak and delicate constitution: yet 
such is often the case. The strong and vigorous are 
generally careless and even reckless in their manner 
of living ; they think nothing can break them, and ven- 
ture anything; while those of a delicate constitution 
seldom undertake anything beyond their strength, and 
live carefully and regularly. Dana, the poet, found 
himself an invalid at forty-five ; then he began to be 
careful and regular in his daily life, and lived till 
ninety. However, heredity is a great factor in the 
matter of long living. 

***** 

You know that genius has been defined as "the power 
of concentrating the mind on one subject," "the power 
of intense application," "the habit of getting up in 



274 Culture by Conversation 

the early morning and lighting one's own fire," and 
so on. Here is a writer in the Saturday Evening 
Post who makes a suggestion worth considering: 

"It is impossible to read competent biographies of 
great men or to study the superior men about one with- 
out verifying the old saying that genius is feminine. 
Why, then, is it that the male dominates? 

"Possibly this may be an explanation : The male has 
force but is impatient of detail. The female has the 
patience for detail but lacks force. The superior per- 
son has masculine force plus feminine grasp of de- 
tail — plus the power to select the essential details and 
to reject the non-essentials." 

Here is a stump speech that is unrivalled for clever- 
ness. It was on the eve of a by-election in Ontario, 
Canada, when a meeting was held at which the liberal 
candidate was absent. The government candidate 
spoke thus: "Fellow-citizens, you know me — I am a 
self-made man — that's all I need say — you know me." 
Whereupon the representative of the absent candidate, 
a little French-Canadian lawyer, made this reply : 
"Fellow-citizen, I'm verrie sorry me frien could not 
come — I'd like mooch you have seen heem. He verrie 
deeferent from dis man dat have joost sat down. He 
says he made himself. I believe dat. But my man — 
God made heem! And, my friens, dere is joost as 
mooch deef erence between de men as dere is between de 
makers !" That was all his speech ; but that was 
enough for the audience, and quite too much for the 
man who made himself! Was not this as clever as 
Henry Clapp's utterance : "Yes, Horace is a self-made 
man ; and he worships his creator !" 

***** 



Table- Talk Notes 275 

"Women are the inheritors of the oldest, most uni- 
versal human wisdom. They have more sense than 
men, for the simple reason that a man has to be a 
specialist, and a specialist has to be a fanatic. The 
normal man all over the world is a hunter or a fisher 
or a banker or a man of letters or some silly thing. If 
so, he has to be a wise hunter or a wise banker. But 
nobody with the smallest knowledge of professional 
life would ever expect him to be a wise man. But his 
wife has to be a wise w^oman. She has to have an eye 
to everything." — G. K, Chesterton. 

Is it not a fact, that though women don't study half 
as much as men, they are wiser than most studious 
men.'' 

This under the nose — 

But it is true to the letter — 
The man thinks he knows ; 

But the woman knows better! 



It is not every author who can publish his book at 
his own expense. Many young poets, however, have 
done so ; notably, Longfellow, Holmes, Emerson, and 
Whittier. There is a young English poet who lately 
made the venture, and found his first book of poems 
"went off" in a rather unexpected manner. Not hav- 
ing heard anything for a considerable time of the re- 
sult of his venture, the young poet wrote to his pub- 
lisher to "know the worst," which he calculated at 
about £70. 

"Let me know how many copies of the edition have 
gone off'," ran his humble epistle, "and what is the 
balance I owe you." The publisher wrote back: 
"Your whole edition has gone off, leaving a balance of 



276 Culture by Conversation 

£25 in your favour. Cheque enclosed." The poet, full 
of delight, rushed to the publisher to obtain particu- 
lars of the unexpected sale. 

"My dear sir, you had better not ask," said the pub- 
lisher. 

"Not ask! Why not.? You wrote to say that the 
edition had all been sold; it must have been sold to 
somebody." 

"Pardon me. I wrote that it had 'gone off.' So it 
has, the whole of it ; not a copy is left. There was a 
fire in the warehouse, and the contents were insured !" 

I wonder what his feelings were on hearing this ! 
But some poets would rather have this account than 
the one they often have. 

When the first edition of Rogers' poem, "The Pleas- 
ures of Memory," sold slowly, Rogers had a number 
of expensive plates made to illustrate it, which made 
it sell rapidly ; whereupon his friend Luttrell ob- 
served, "Had it not been for the plates, the poem would 
have been dished!" I suppose Luttrell would have 
said of the above-mentioned poet that his hash would 
have been cooked had it not been for the fire ! 

The poet Coleridge, after warning young authors 
against publishing a book in any other than through 
the usual trade-channels, tells in his Biographia 
Literaria this story: 

A learned and exemplary old clergyman published at 
his own expense two volumes, octavo, entitled "A New 
Theory of Redemption." The work was severely 
handled by the press critics, and the old gentleman 
used to exclaim: "Well, in the second edition I shall 
have an opportunity of exposing their ignorance and 
malignity." Two or three years passed without any 
tidings from the bookseller who had undertaken the 



Table-Talk Notes 277 

publication ; for the latter was perfectly at his ease, 
as he was well aware that the author was a man of 
considerable property. At length the accounts were 
written for ; and in the course of a few weeks they were 
presented by the rider for the house in person. The 
old gentleman put on his spectacles, and, holding the 
scroll with no very firm hand, began : 

"Paper, so much : Oh, moderate enough — not at all 
beyond my expectation! Printing, so much — well, 
moderate enough, too ! Stitching, binding, adver- 
tising, carriage, etc., so much. Still nothing amiss. 
Selleridge. (Ah, I see orthography is no part of a 
bookseller's acquirements) £3, 3s. 6d. Bless me! only 
three guineas for the what d'ye call it? the seller- 
idge?" 

"No more, sir," replied the rider. 

"Nay, but that is too moderate — only three guineas 
for selling a thousand copies of a work in two vol- 
umes ?" 

"Oh, sir,'* cried the young traveller, "you have mis- 
taken the word. None of them have been sold ; this £3, 
3s. 6d. is for the cellarage, or warehouse room, in 
which they have been stored !" 

Subsequently, on presenting a copy to a friend, the 
old gentleman used to tell the story with great good 
humour and still greater good-nature. How many 
authors could do that? 

I have been told of an American clergyman, who had 
a volume of sermons published on this paying plan, 
and he received, after two years, an account of ex- 
penses and sales, which ran as follows: Composition, 
$400; paper, $150; printing, $175; binding, $150; 
advertising, $300 ; copies sent to the press and to 
friends, $250 ; miscellaneous expenses, $97.50 ; total, 



278 Culture by Conversation 

$1,622.50; number of copies sold, seven, $8.75; 
amount due by the author, $1,613.25 ! 



"There is nothing in America," says Moncure D. 
Conway, who has Hved for thirty years in London, "to 
give you an equivalent for what you would give up in 
London. There is no such thing in America, it seems 
to me, as a literary class : I doubt if there ever will be. 
It is because our literary men are not great enough 
nor numerous enough to create a class, but still more 
because money is the national gauge of power. I be- 
lieve if you got at the truth of the inmost feeling of 
ninety-nine men out of a hundred in what are called 
the 'financial circles' of America, it would be found 
to be four-fifths contempt for literary people, one- 
tenth pity, and one-tenth respect. They think it is 
well to have a Longfellow and a Whittier, and a few 
more like them, because other countries have authors — 
*a thing no country should be without,' — ^but for any- 
thing beyond that — No ! Their only feeling about 
literature is that it is an uncommonly poor way of 
making a living. If they had to take their choice be- 
tween Mrs. Southworth and Hawthorne, they would 
choose Mrs. Southworth unhesitatingly. She had 
written fifty-nine novels and made a fortune — that is 
worth while!" 

Well, I suppose it was once so in England, too, when 
Milton got ten pounds for "Paradise Lost," and 
Goldsmith sixty for "The Vicar of Wakefield." And 
then, in Johnson's time, how much respect was paid 
to literature and literary men.'' 



Tahle-Talk Notes 279 

A Methodist clergyman said, very happily, that when 
you get to Heaven you will have three surprises : The 
first, to find a great many people there whom you 
did not expect to see there ; the second, to find a great 
many people not there whom you did expect to see 
there ; and the third, to find yourself there ! 

***** 

Here is an encouraging story for a young writer — 
though discouraging for others : 

"A friend came to me once," says James Whitcomb 
Riley, the well-known author, "completely heart- 
broken, saying that his manuscripts were constantly 
returned, and that he was the most miserable wretch 
alive. I asked him how long he had been trying. 
'Three years,' he said. 'My dear man,' I answered, 
laughing, 'go on ; keep on trying till you have spent 
as many years at it as I did.' 'As many as you did !' 
he exclaimed. 'Yes, as long as I did.' 'What.^^ 
You, James Whitcomb Riley, struggled for years.?' 
'Yes, sir, through years ; through sleepless nights, 
through almost hopeless days. For twenty years I 
tried to get into one magazine ; back came my manu- 
script eternally. I kept on. In the twentieth year 
that magazine accepted one of my articles. I was not 
a believer in the theory that one man does a thing 
much easier than any other man. Continuous, un- 
flagging effort, persistence and determination will win. 
Let not the man be discouraged who has these.' " 
***** 

How well and how coolly Lincoln could reply is thus 
shown: Judge Douglas had tried to degrade him by 
enumerating the various menial or manual employ- 
ments in which he had been engaged. Lincoln, when 



280 Culture by Conversation 

he rose to reply, came forward, and said he "was very 
much obliged to Judge Douglas for the very accurate 
history that he had taken the trouble to compile. It 
was all true, every word of it. I have," said Lincoln, 
"worked on a farm ; I have split rails ; I have worked 
on a flat boat ; I have tried to practise law. There is 
just one thing that Judge Douglas forgot to relate. 
He says that I sold liquor over a counter. He forgot 
to tell you that, while I was on one side of the counter 
the judge was always on the other side!" 

The wit is admirable; but was not his coolness and 
good humour under such a provoking attack equally 
so.? It is a great thing, a great advantage, to keep 
cool under provocation. 

***** 

How differently some authors look at their works! 
When the King of Prussia sent the order of merit to 
Thomas Carlyle, in recognition of his merit as the 
author of that masterpiece in biography, the "Life 
of Frederick the Great," Carlyle was rather irritated 
by it. He said he would have been better pleased if 
the King had sent him a few pounds of good tobacco ! 
When Varnhagen von Ense called on him with the 
thanks of all Germany for his great life of Frederick, 
he said, "I have no satisfaction in it at all; only 
labour and sorrow. What the devil had I to do with 
your Frederick, anyhow?" Such was the result of 
his work of ten years, the study of over a thousand 
volumes, and the reading of innumerable manuscripts ! 
And I don't think that James Parton, in his ten years' 
labour on the "Life of Voltaire," had any great satis- 
faction — it wore him out and brought him only sor- 
row and sadness. 



Table-Talk Notes 281 

It is admitted that we are the richest people in the 
world to-da}^ — the richest people the world has ever 
seen. The vaunted wealth of Croesus is estimated 
at only eight million dollars, but there are seventy 
American estates that average thirty-five millions 
each. 

But, in view of the vast corruption in the cities, can 
we say that we are the most upright, fair-minded, and 
honourable people in the world? That would be a 
far nobler distinction, which, it is hoped, we shall gain 
some day. 



"What are you here for?" asked Andrew White of 
the students at Cornell. "You are here for the de- 
velopment and discipline of all your powers, moral, 
intellectual and physical. The first thing to be gained 
in student life is decision of character. Study your- 
self, measure your own powers, take advice of your 
friends and of the Faculty, and when you have 
selected your course, stick to it. Be thorough in your 
work ; don't drop stitches here and there. Want of 
thoroughness is the crying sin of American life to- 
day. We constantly have these two curious things: 
A vast number of young fellows run about the coun- 
try doing almost anything and doing it ill; and, on 
the other hand, a considerable number of places look- 
ing almost in vain for somebody to do the best work." 

A good way to develop the power of the will, he said, 
is by resolving to rise early and carrying out the 
resolution. A man who can get up in the morning 
early can do anything. Mr. White closed his ad- 
dress by recommending all to look to their religious 
life. "Every man is false to himself," he said, "unless 



282 Culture by Conversation 

he comes into communion with the higher powers of 
the universe." 



"Dr. Somerville Hastings, who lectured at the Lon- 
don Institute of Hygiene the other day on 'CleanKness 
Is Next to GodHness,' said that people were much 
cleaner now than in the reigns of Queen Mary and 
Elizabeth, when the washing of clothes was unknown. 
Cotton was hardly in use and linen was expensive. 
The poor wore rough woollen garments, which were 
never washed, and the better classes adorned them- 
selves with silks and velvets, which were dyed when 
they would no longer pass muster in regard to cleanli- 
ness. It is recorded, continued Dr. Hastings, that 
James I. never washed either hands or face during 
the period he posed as the wisest fool in Christendom, 
but confined his cleanliness within the narrow limits of 
wiping his finger tips upon a damp napkin. 

"A very simple experiment, made by an eminent bac* 
teriologist, determines in a startling manner the poten- 
tial dangers associated with accumulations of dust in 
living rooms. A pin-point was used to convey as much 
dust as so small a vehicle will carry. This yielded no 
less than 3,000 colonies of living germs, when culti- 
vated on gelatine, and although, fortunately, every 
species was not representative of disease, yet the ma- 
jority were potent sources of decomposition and dan- 
ger to health." — London Daily Telegraph. 

Ik m * * 'if, 

A writer in the New York Sun who describes his 
struggles to get employment on the New York press 
is replied to by another writer, who declares he lacks 
humour, and that a newspaper writer must have 



Table- Talk Notes 283 

humour, first and foremost, without which he never can 
succeed. He should go into trade, where a man can 
succeed without humour. 



"Chief Justice Story attended a public dinner in Bos- 
ton at which Edward Everett was present. Desiring 
to pay a delicate compliment to the latter, the learned 
judge proposed as a volunteer toast: 

" 'Fame follows merit where Everett goes.' 

"The brilliant scholar arose and responded : 

" 'To whatever heights judicial learning may attain 

in this country, it will never get above one Story.' " — 

Success, 



At the beginning of the last century there were about 
25,000,000 who spoke English; now there are over 
300,000,000. 

The one difficulty in English is the pronunciation. 
Its grammar is very easy — Richard Grant White calls 
it "the grammarless tongue" — but its pronunciation 
is, like the ways of the "Heathen Chinee," peculiar. 
Here is an illustration, written by whom I do not 
know: 

When the English tongue we speak. 
Why is "break" not rhymed with "freak" ? 
Will you tell me why it's true 
We say "sew," but likewise "few," 
And the maker of a verse 
Cannot cap his "horse" with "worse"? 
"Beard" sounds not the same as "heard" ; 
"Cord" is different from "word" ; 



284 Culture by Conversation 

"Cow" is cow, but "low" is low; 
"Shoe" is never rhymed with "foe." 
Think of "hose," and "dose" and "lose" 
And of "goose" and yet of "choose." 
Think of "comb" and "tomb" and "bomb," 
"Doll" and "roll," and "home" and "some," 
And since "pay" is rhymed with "say" 
Why not "paid" with "said," I pray? 
We have "blood" and "food" and "good"; 
"Mould" is not pronounced like "could." 
Wherefore "done," but "gone" and "lone".? 
Is there any reason known .^^ 
And, in short, it seems to me 
Sounds and letters disagree. 

This reminds one of the difficulties of the Frenchman 
with such words as bow, low, bough, rough, tough, 
dough, cough, etc. 



The office boy to a large firm of publishers was a 
smart lad, and when recently he was sent to one of the 
operative departments with a message he noticed at 
once that something was wrong with the machinery. 
He returned, gave the alarm, and thus prevented much 
damage. The circumstance was reported to the head 
of the firm, before whom John was summoned. 

"You have done me a great service, my lad," he said. 
"In future your wages will be increased $1 weekly." 

"Thank you, sir," said the bright little fellow. "I 
will do my best to be worth it, and to be a good ser- 
vant to you." 

The reply struck the chief almost as much as the 
lad's previous service had done. 

"That's the right spirit, my lad," he said. "In all 



Table-Talk Notes 285 

the years I have been in business no one has ever 
thanked me in that way. I will make the increase $2. 
Now, what do you say to that?" 

"Well, sir," said the boy, after a moment's hesitation, 
"would you mind if I said it again?" 



Very few people consider that the literary man has 
more competitors than any other professional man, 
and that a second-class lawyer or doctor may succeed 
well enough, whereas none but a first-class literary 
man can make a living at literature. Who are his 
competitors? The dead, whose voice is generally 
more esteemed than that of the living. All the great 
geniuses of the past are his competitors, and very 
often their works can be had for the asking. 



The following is almost as good as James T. Fields' 
"Owl Critic": 

The critic stood, with scornful eye, 

Before a picture on the wall; 
"You call that art? Why, see, the fly 

Is not natural at all! 

"It has too manj'^ legs — its head 
Is far too large — who ever saw 
A fly like that — its colour red ! 
And wings that look as if they — pshaw !" 

And with a gesture of disgust 

He waved his hand ; when lo ! the fly 

Flew from the picture. "Ah, some dust," 
The critic said, "was in my eye." 



286 Culture by Conversation 

I read some time ago of a lady who was standing with 
her little boy, watching a splendid troop of soldiers 
passing up Broadway, each company with a fine band 
playing at its head, when the little fellow, who was 
watching them with great interest, exclaimed, 
"Mamma, what are the soldiers for that make no 
music?" 

How much there is in that simple child's remark! 
What would Wordsworth not have made of it! How 
many people there are who "make no music" in their 
march through life ! 



Here is one of the incidents such as Charles Reade 
would gladly cut out of a newspaper, and work up in 
one of his novels : 

"A rich American, residing in the St. George's quar- 
ter, had been for some little time past the victim of 
systematic thefts. Banknotes and money not left 
under lock and key disappeared regularly. M. 
Cornette, the Commissary of Police, was informed of 
the robberies. He found it would be impossible to keep 
an effective watch on the bedroom where the thefts 
occurred, but he adopted a stratagem which turned 
out successfully. A small vial containing a mixture 
of picric acid and fuschine was placed in a metal case 
for holding gold, and a few Napoleons were placed 
on top. In order to get out the gold the metal case 
had to be held upside down, and then, of course, the 
chemical preparation would run out and stain the 
thief's hands a bright and indelible yellow. As soon 
as some of the gold was missed M. Cornette summoned 
all the servants to his presence. The valet's fingers 
betrayed him. Realising the uselessness of denying 



Tabic- Talk Notes 287 

when caught yellow handed, he confessed, and was 
duly locked up." 



The various ways in which a cold may be caught are 
thus described by Dr. J. H. Kellogg in Good 
Health: ''A little knife-blade of air blowing in 
through a crack in a window upon some part of the 
body will chill that part, and the blood vessels of that 
region will become contracted, affecting, somewhere in 
the interior of the body, an area in reflex relation with 
this portion of the surface of the body. When the in- 
fluence of the cold is continued, this contraction is fol- 
lowed by congestion. When one puts his hands into 
cold water for a few minutes, they first pale, and then 
redden. This is reaction. The longer the application 
and the more intense the degree of cold, the greater 
will be the contraction and the congestion. So, if 
the back of the neck is exposed for a long time to the 
influence of cold, one is likely to have a cold in the 
lungs, and suff*er from congestion of the lungs. If 
the cold is long continued, it may cause not only a con- 
gestion but an inflammation of the nose or the lungs. 
So, if the bottoms of the feet become wet or chilled, a 
weakness of the bladder may result if there has ever 
been a trouble there; or a weakness of the stomach 
if there has been a catarrh of that organ." 

A "knife-blade of air" is a good figure. That one 
should be as much in danger from such an air-wafer 
as from the chilly breeze at an open window is worth 
remembering. 

There is a clever young physician in Philadelphia 
who has never been able to smoke a cigar. He was in- 



288 Culture by Conversation 

vited to a large dinner party given by a New York 
friend. At the conclusion of the repast, when the 
women had left the table, cigars were accepted by all 
the men except the physician from Philadelphia. 
Seeing his friend refuse the cigar, the host in astonish- 
ment exclaimed : 

"What! not smoking? Why, my dear fellow, you 
lose half your dinner !" 

"Yes, I know I do; but if I smoked, I would lose 
the whole of it !" 



"Men and women range themselves into three classes 
or orders of intelligence ; you can tell the lowest class 
by their habit of always talking about persons ; the 
next by the fact that their habit is always to converse 
about things ; the highest by their preference for the 
discussion of ideas." — Buckle. 



A politician in Albany while playing cards with 
several members of the Legislature dropped a hun- 
dred dollar bill under the table. On his way to bed he 
discovered his loss, and rushed back to the room, 
where he met the waiter, who inquired: "Lost some- 
thing, sir.f^" 

"Yes, I've lost a one hundred dollar bill !" 

"It's all right, sir," said the waiter, "I've just found 
it, and here it is." 

"You're a square brick," said the delighted states- 
man, "and here's five dollars for you." 

"Thank you, sir," replied the waiter, "I want noth- 
ing for being honest — but," he added, with a sly 



Tabic- Talk Notes 289 

grin — "ain't it lucky for you that none of your 
friends found it?" 



I remember that at a discussion on health in the Twi- 
light Club nearly every member who was strong and 
healthy attributed his health to sleeping at night with 
open windows. Here is an item worth considering, 
especially the experience of the Indian: 

By almost constant overcovering, day and night, for 
successive generations, the skin has, by degeneration, 
adapted itself to its reduced requirements. From 
birth to senile death we are much overcovered. That 
a full and vigorously developed skin is a desideratum 
will be generally conceded. The tendency is for ours 
to degenerate to a tissue-paper consistency. The ex- 
quisite structure of the skin at once indicates its im- 
portance as one of the organs of the body. 

A homely showing of that functional power which 
can be developed in the skin is indicated by the story 
of the Indian. Being almost naked, and yet appar- 
ently quite comfortable in inclement weather, he was 
asked why he did not seem to suffer and be made ill 
by the exposure; he replied: "White man's face no 
pain, no sick. Indian all face." 

I suppose that a microscopic examination of the 
skin of the face and that of other parts of the body 
would show a difference in development. So we may 
learn something even from the Indian savage about 
"the best way to become strong." 



An Italian count is said to have left for an inscrip- 
tion on his tombstone : 



290 Culture hy Conversation 

"I was well — 
Wished to be better — 
Took medicine — 
And diedl" 

I suppose he had neglected to get enough sunshine, 
fresh air, exercise, and wholesome food, which are bet- 
ter than any medicines. 



A gentleman who, on hearing any sad tale, v/as al- 
ways in the habit of saying, "It might have been 
worse," had a friend who determined to cure him. He 
related a sad dream in which he thought he had died 
and was in the- lower regions. "It might have been 
worse!" cried the gentleman. "It might have been 
worse! How could it have been worse .f^" "It might 
have been true !" replied the other. 



I knew a gentleman connected with a line of steamers 
who used to work hard in preparing everything be- 
fore the departure of the vessels, and was in the habit 
of going on board, just before each vessel started, 
to say good-bye to the officers and passengers. He 
never spared himself in any way ; did a great deal of 
work for his friends and the public as well as for his 
company ; was a member of a school-board, president 
of a club, director of a bank, etc., and thought he 
could stand any strain. After eighteen years' hard 
work of this kind he finally broke down, gave up all 
exertion, and retired from business, while still in the 
prime of life. When visiting him one day in his en- 
forced idleness, and talking with him about his health, 
he said to me, "I often think now of the fact that, 



Table-Talk Notes 291 

when I used to stand on the deck of each parting 
steamer, chatting with the officers, and wishing the 
passengers a pleasant voyage, I sometimes felt a 
strong inclination to go along with them and have a 
good time too. I ought to have done so ; it was nature 
telling me to rest; it would have rested and might 
have saved me ; but now it is too late !" 

Nature usually gives warning before she strikes a 
fatal blow. It is not harmful to get tired, but it is 
harmful to get exhausted. When the various powers 
of the body are hard used for a time, they begin to 
slacken and give way, and if not repaired by rest, 
sleep, and recreation, they break suddenly, and a gen- 
eral wreck is the result. 



There is so much bad in the best of us, 
And so much good in the worst of us, 
That it hardly behooves any of us 
To talk about the rest of us. 



Science teaches that few persons in breathing use 
more than one-sixth of their lung capacity — which 
means in such case that only one-sixth of the 175,- 
000,000 of air cells constituting the lung surface are 
expanded and nourished. 

Continued disuse, as we know, of any organ results 
in atrophy, which means collapse, disease, or decay. 
Life without air can be sustained about four minutes 
and without food for forty days. Humanity clamours 
for food three or four times a day — with often a 
"pick-me-up" thrown in — and forced feeding to an 
unwilling, unable stomach is still doing its deadly 



292 Culture by Conversation 

work. The Black Hole of Calcutta did its fatal work 
in one night, and its history is in a slow suicidal way 
repeated in kind, if not in degree, in every crowded, 
unventilated room. 



Disraeli, on being taunted with his Jewish origin, 
replied, "Yes, and I am proud of it. Half of Europe 
worships a Jew, and the other half a Jewess !" 



Phrenology is no longer regarded as trustworthy; 
and physiognomy, or the art of telling character and 
capacity by the features, is often dangerously wrong. 
But what say you to indicating character and capac- 
ity by the colour of the hair and the eyes? Miss 
Berry, who had known most of the famous persons of 
her time, declares that "pale grey eyes, with dark hair, 
belong to all the very extraordinary characters she 
had seen — Bonaparte, Byron, and others — while dark 
eyes, with the greenish cast, imply the first rank with 
regard to qualities of the heart, and the second with 
regard to those of the intellect." She goes on to say 
that "dark eyes with the sedatest cast, however fine, 
with dark hair, indicate no superiority either of the 
mind or the heart." It is plain that dark-eyed and 
dark-haired people were no favourites of hers. Napo- 
leon used to place great confidence in any man with a 
long nose ; and Chantrey, the sculptor, used to declare 
that a long upper lip was indicative of great imagina- 
tion. 

"The hp is too long," said Sir Walter Scott to 
Chantrey, when the latter had shown him a life-size 
bust of Shakespeare, which he had just completed. 



Table- Talk Notes 293 

"Not at all," replied the sculptor; "I will wager a 
guinea yours is just as long." Measurement was 
made, and Sir Walter was found to possess just as 
much lip as Shakespeare! 

But, as with the weather, so with other things ; all 
signs sometimes fail; and I suppose many distin- 
guished persons could be picked out with the opposite 
of the above-mentioned characteristics. When Cur- 
ran, the most eloquent of Irish orators, came to the 
house of a nobleman, who had, before knowing him 
personally, invited him to dinner, his physiognomy 
was so much against him that the nobleman exclaimed : 
"What! You are not Curran! You could not say 
Boo ! to a goose." "Boo ! my Lord," replied the witty 
Irishman, and was immediately warmly welcomed. 

The latest thing in this line is the discovery of a 
Boston philosopher, Mr. E. Winslow, who maintains 
that the surest indication of the temperament and dis- 
position of people is afforded by their backs. "En- 
gagements have been predicted," he affirms, "tragedies 
in affairs prognosticated, coming events of the most 
various kinds foreshadowed, by speaking backs." It 
would be well to know in what language these backs 
speak. Some indication of it is given in this sentence : 
"Think of the vain backs with their conscientious 
wriggle ; the high shoulders of conceit ; the bridling 
neck of pride; the dishonest cringe; the bending of 
reverence; the droop of courtesy; the bowing of 
modesty ; the inclinings of affection ; the distortions 
of labour and pain." I think the remark of a friend 
of mind more to the point, when he declared he knew 
that a certain man was lazy because he had such a 
large, broad bottom ! 



294 Culture by Conversation 

Here is a significant fact which it would be well for 
all successful business men to consider. A gentleman 
who had been forty years president of a bank in 
Massachusetts declared to a friend of mine that during 
that period over ninety-five per cent, of the depositors 
in the bank had failed in business. At first blush, this 
seems an incredible statement ; but does the reader know 
five business men out of a hundred who have made 
money enough, or who consider they have made money 
enough, to retire? That is the weak point in all 
successful business men ; they don't know when to 
stop. When they have ten thousand a year, they 
think they must make twenty thousand; when they 
have twenty thousand, they must make forty ; and so 
on. They never really enjoy life; it is all work and 
no play with them; and their good time is always 
coming, never come. In view of this fact, I think 
every salaried man who has a fixed income which en- 
ables him to live comfortably ought to be satisfied; 
and, in view of the fact that most business men eventu- 
ally fail, I think it remarkable that business men go 
on giving large and long credits until they are landed 
with their debtors in the bankruptcy court. 



We seldom speak of an able business man as a man 
of genius ; but the fact is, few men are better de- 
serving of the title. Probably more genius is required 
to manage successfully a large business concern than 
to write a successful novel, or lead an army to victory. 
The following story of Colonel T. A. Scott — who was 
a man of great business capacity with sense enough 
to retire when he had made enough to live comfort- 
ably — forcibly reminded me of the truth of this state- 



Table-Talk Notes 295 

mcnt ; for Colonel Scott seems to have had the genius 
of Wellington, who was noted for his quick perception 
and his power of instantly detecting and taking ad- 
vantage of any omission or false movement on the 
part of an enemy in battle. 

A distinguished lawyer, whom Colonel Scott engaged 
as counsel in an important railway suit, prepared a 
statement of the case with unusual care, and believing 
it irrefutable, visited his client for further consulta- 
tion. The man of affairs listened to every detail 
without uttering a word. Then when the lawyer 
asked, "What do you think of my presentment of the 
case?" Mr. Scott said quietly, "It is perfect and un- 
answerable in every respect except one," and the 
colonel proceeded to point out an omission or defect 
which would have rendered the lawyer's whole argu- 
ment worthless. The lawyer, seeing it at once, said 
he had never been so heartily ashamed of any short- 
coming in his life ; for he had failed to notice, after 
the most painstaking study of the case, the vital point, 
which the man of affairs instantly detected. Well 
might he have exclaimed, on thinking of this after- 
wards, "Great Scott ! what a genius he had !" 



It has been affirmed that much intercourse with good 
society enables a man of originally humble condition 
to shake off the shyness and awkwardness acquired 
from long association with the ignorant and illiterate. 
Not always ; or not entirely so. Look at Goldsmith. 
To the last he "chatted like poor poll," and ever pre- 
ferred to be chief among humble working people to 
being equal among men of culture and learning. 
When he wrote, his spirit soared above all meaner 



296 Culture by Conversation 

things, and he walked with angels ; but when he came 
down, the humblest people were his companions, and 
only among such was he at his ease. It is hard, very 
hard, to shake off habits and likings acquired in youth, 
or from long association with the humble and illiter- 
ate. But Goldsmith was a bachelor, and had little com- 
munion with women. That was the fatal defect in his 
character or career. I venture to say that there is 
only one sure cure for the shyness and awkwardness of 
a man of humble origin, which is to marry a woman of 
culture and refinement. That is his only chance, if he 
ever gets it. 



It requires almost a lifetime of study and practice 
to become perfect in any foreign tongue. Carl 
Schurz is the only German I know in America who 
spoke and wrote English perfectly, and Bayard Tay- 
lor the only American who spoke and wrote German 
perfectly. Herculean effort and everlasting study are 
required to master a foreign tongue and speak it like 
a native. 



We all know what funny mistakes foreigners often 
make in speaking English. I suppose a hundred such 
mistakes could easily be collected ; but what would this 
prove? Does not everybody make mistakes in the use 
of a tongue that is not native to him? And, by the 
way, one of the funny things is the misapprehension 
of this word foreigners by those very people who laugh 
at the mistakes of foreigners. An Englishwoman in 
Germany, hearing herself and her party spoken of 
as foreigners, exclaimed : "Foreigners ! Why, no ; we 
are English ; you are foreigners !" But such mistakes 



Table-Talk Notes 297 

are most comical when made on a public occasion by 
some distinguished person. The famous lawyer, Pierre 
Soule, once United States senator from Louisiana, 
noted for the precision and deliberation with which 
he spoke English, once made a mistake which set both 
judge and jury laughing immoderately. It was in 
an argument in a court in New Orleans, in a murder 
case. He intended to make a very dramatic and pa- 
thetic statement of the tragedy, which had taken place 
in the kitchen of a public house; and he thought he 
was getting on finely, when the jury and the audience 
burst out laughing, which he could not understand. 
At last he indignantly appealed for an explanation to 
the judge, who was also laughing. "Why, Mr. 
Soule," said his honour, "you doubtless intend to say 
the murder was committed in the kitchen, but you 
say in the chickenr' 

A distinguished Frenchman, who was invited to din- 
ner by Mr. John Walter of the London TimeSy ex- 
claimed, on meeting his host and hostess : "I hope you 
are well oiF, Mr. Walter ; and I hope you, too, are well 
off, Mrs. Walter!" "I hope you are well off, too," 
replied his host, good-naturedly. On reading this, I 
could not help thinking that many a person is well off 
who is far from well; and that many others are well 
who are far from well off; and that neither would 
exchange his condition for that of the other. Do we 
really know when we are well off.'* 



Mr. Justin McCarthy tells this story: "Among the 
foreign visitors whom I met at Fletcher Moulton's 
house, there was one whom I cannot help associating 
with an anecdote which caused some amusement to the 



298 Culture by Conversation 

household at the time. He was a young Frenchman 
who had acquired a certain command of fluent Eng- 
lish, but who, as it will be seen, was not quite up to the 
conventional niceties of the language. He came to 
stay on a visit at the house of my friend ; and, on the 
day of his arrival, one of the daughters of the house 
happened to mention to him that there was to be a 
dinner party that evening. 'Ah, then,' said he, with 
the satisfied smile of one who knows all about dinner 
parties, and is master of the situation, 'I shall come 
down in my night-clothes !' " 



There is nothing that fixes a truth in the mind like 
an illustrative story. All strong impressive writers 
and speakers make use of such illustrations. For we 
remember things by association; one fact carries an- 
other along with it ; and it is thus that important 
truths are indelibly fixed in the mind. Take this as an 
example, from a discourse by the Rev. W. M. Taylor : 

"A distinguished botanist, being exiled from his na- 
tive land, obtained employment as an under-gardener 
in the service of a nobleman. While he was in this 
situation, his master received a valuable plant, the 
nature and habits of which were unknown to him. 
It was given to his head-gardener to be taken care of, 
and he, fancying it to be a tropical production, put 
it into the hothouse (for it was winter), and dealt with 
it as with the others under the glass. But it began to 
decay. Then the under-gardener asked permission 
to examine it. As soon as he looked at it, he said: 
'This is an arctic plant ; you are killing it by the tropi- 
cal heat into which you have introduced it.' So he 
took it outside, and exposed it to the frost, and, to the 



TaUc-Talk Notes 299 

dismay of the head-gardener, heaped pieces of ice 
around the flower-pot; but the result vindicated his 
wisdom, for straightway it began to recover, and was 
soon as strong as ever. Now, such a plant is Christian 
character. It is not trial or difficulty that is dangerous 
to it, but ease. Put it into a hothouse, separate it 
from the world, surround it with luxury, hedge it in 
from every opposition, and you take the surest means 
of killing it." 



It is a singular fact that the face and features of 
some persons assume, after death, much more dis- 
tinctly than in life, the very cast and expression of one 
of their ancestors. In a letter from The Hague, July, 
1884, within a few days after the death of the last 
Prince of Orange, the writer says : 

"I went at once to the palace and saw the Prince. It 
is very unreal now; but the likeness to William the 
Silent is quite marvellous. Mr. W. was so struck with 
it, that if there had not been great difficulties, he would 
have desired to have a photograph taken even now. 
The face had a kind of fixed, stem, elderly look, 
exactly like our head of William the Silent." 

What a train of reflections this incident inspires ! 
Notwithstanding all our education, our creeds, custom, 
prejudices, all the influences of environment and of 
intercourse with other people, there is a deep underly- 
ing tendency in all of us, derived from our ancestors, 
which impels us to acts of greatness or of guilt ! And 
shall not we, long after we have lain in forgotten 
graves, still by the traits and tendencies transmitted 
to our posterity, influence their character and actions ^ 
It is well to know who our ancestors were, and what 



300 Cultm^e hy Conversation 

they did or attempted to do ; for those things teach 
us much of ourselves. 



A Chicagoan was praising the late Marshall Field. 

"Mr. Field was a kindly man," he said. "He spoke 
ill of no one. And when his opinion was asked of a 
person, and it was not a favourable opinion, he would 
express it in such a gentle and quaint way that its 
sting would be quite lost. 

"Once at a dinner I praised the conversational talent 
of a man across the table. I said to Mr. Field : 

" 'Do you know him.?' 

" 'I have met him,' the other answered. 

" 'Well, he is a clever chap,' said I. 'He can talk 
brilliantly for an hour at a stretch.' 

" 'Then, when I met him,' said Mr. Field, 'it must 
have been the beginning of the second hour.' " 



How pregnant and far-reaching one single short 
sentence often is ! The remark of the clergyman above 
mentioned reminds me of that of another, which always 
recurs to me when feelings of vanity arise. On com- 
ing down from the pulpit, after delivering one of his 
best sermons, a hearer said to this clergyman: "You 
have given us a most excellent sermon, doctor." "The 
devil told me that before I left the pulpit," he replied. 
Whenever you are prompted by vain, deceitful, or evil 
thoughts, you may be sure the devil is right behind 
you. 

*!? ^ y^ TJ? fl|& 

I have heard many addresses to graduates in my 
time, but I never heard a better one than the following 



Table- Talk Notes 301 

by Mr. Walter S. Carter, which was addressed to the 
graduates of a law school : 

"Stay in the East, young man. Stay here, where 
there are few lawyers ; and don't go West, where there 
are a lot of them. Go to a small place in the East, and 
you are likely to rise. There have been many changes 
in law practice in the last few years. Think how the 
law offices themselves have changed. Instead of being 
dark and dingy, they are light and airy and comfort- 
able now, and, instead of bare floors, you see Turkish 
rugs. Just compare the offices of Daniel Webster and 
Elihu Root, for example. I'll give you some advice. 
Get into a good law office, if you can. Prepare your- 
self well on every case. Get a good tailor to clothe 
you, but don't go to extremes in dressing. Have no 
peculiarities. Have no long hair and no long whiskers. 
Don't have a tie that is very narrow or very broad, or 
a collar that is too high or too low. Let the happy 
medium be your aim in everything. A good name is 
better than riches ; so be plain in spelling your name ; 
don't put a 'y' in Franklin or any such thing as that, 
and spell out your first given name. Learn to write 
plainly. Look up your cases thoroughly. Richard 
H. Dana, in Boston, got a number of cases just be- 
cause he knew about sailing and the sea. Look up 
anatomy in criminal cases. Senator Foraker once won 
a case by studying up for a few weeks with the best 
teachers the subject of chemistry, and he beat a man 
who was then a better lawyer. Lastly — and this is 
something that will please you all — get married, even 
if you have to do so on the principle of the Irishman 
who said he could almost support himself, and his wife 
ought to do something ! And don't make the mistake 
of overcharging when you make out your bills, for 



302 Culture by Conversation 

vou arc young, and grey hairs count for something in 
law." 

This is excellent advice, almost as good as that of 
Lincoln, who said: "Extemporaneous speaking should 
be practised and cultivated. It is the lawyer's avenue 
to the public. However able and faithful he may be in 
other respects, people are slow to bring him business 
if he cannot make a speech. And yet there is not a 
more fatal error to young lawyers than relying too 
much on speech-making. If any one, by reason of his 
rare powers of speaking, shall claim an exemption 
from the drudgery of the law, his case is a failure in 
advance. Discourage litigation. Persuade your 
clients to compromise whenever you can. Point out 
to them how the nominal winner is often a real loser — 
in fees, expenses, and waste of time. As a peacemaker, 
the lawyer has a superior opportunity of being a good 
man. A worse man can scarcely be found than he who 
stirs up litigation. . . . Let no young man, choosing 
the law for a profession, yield to the popular belief 
that a lawyer must be a dishonest man. Resolve to be 
honest, at all events; and if, in your own judgment, 
you cannot be an honest lawyer, resolve to be honest 
without being a lawyer." 



"Spell out your first name." Of course. One cannot 
tell otherwise who the writer is, whether man or woman. 
To a person who signed his name "B. Short," I could 
not tell whether he was man or woman ; so I said he 
made his name "too short," whereupon he made it 
longer in his next letter, "Benjamin Short," which 
looked and sounded much better. 

A man named Alexander Gunn had his discharge 



Table- Talk Notes 303 

from the public service thus recorded: "A Gun was 
discharged for making a false report !" Poor fellow ! 
only a son of a gun could do such a thing. 



A student asked the president of Oberlin College if 
he could not take a shorter course than that prescribed 
by the institution. "Oh, yes," was the reply, "but 
that depends upon what you want to make of yourself. 
When God wants to make an oak He takes one hun- 
dred years, but when He wants to make a squash, He 
takes six months." 



"In my youth," says James Freeman Clarke, "I knew 
two young men who adopted for their aims, the one, 
self -culture ; the other, philanthropy. The one sought 
to educate himself; the other, to do good. After a 
while, the youth who sought self-culture found that to 
get it he must quit the still air of delightful study, and 
go out to help his brother man. He found that he 
needed work, sympathy, society, in order not to freeze ; 
and so, in order to gain self -development, he became a 
man of usefulness. The other, who began by doing 
good, found himself at last growing shallow. He 
had emptied himself and had to stop to fill himself full 
again. He said : 'I must he something, in order to do 
something. I must gain, in order to give.' So, from 
motives of philanthropy, he proceeded to cultivate his 
mind and develop his faculties. I do not think that 
making self-development an aim will ever lead to self- 
ishness, if this aim is pursued in the spirit of the two 
parables (the talents and the pounds) to which I have 
referred. If we cultivate all the powers of body and 



304 Culture by Conversation 

soul in order to use them as talents in the service of 
God, not in order to gain for ourselves glory, or 
merely to excel others, but because God has made us 
to grow and intends us to grow, that we may be plants 
in His garden, every blossom a censer swinging its 
perfume on the air for Him, every fruit ripening that 
it may bless and help its creatures — then I believe that 
this aim will be in all respects a true and good one." 



There is an old story of a certain king who gave per- 
mission to one of his younger courtiers to go along a 
certain path, in a forest of young trees, in order to 
cut for himself a straight cane. But one of the con- 
ditions was that he was not to turn back until he had 
cut his cane. The young man soon saw one that, he 
thought, was almost perfectly straight ; then he per- 
ceived another, almost equally good; but this, too, 
was not quite to his taste ; so he went on. But as he 
progressed, the young branches seemed to become more 
and more crooked, and at last he was obliged to cut 
one that was more crooked than the one he had first 
seen, or probably than any he had yet seen. 

The moral is perfectly plain. We should take the 
best that offers while we can, and not wait until we can 
get our ideal of perfection, which is never found. I 
was reminded of this story lately when a friend told 
me that, in his younger days, he had made up his mind 
never to buy any pictures until he. could afford to 
buy excellent ones, pictures of real and lasting merit ; 
but, as the years rolled on, he found he was less and less 
able to buy such pictures, and finally made up his 
mind to buy such as he could afford, lest he might 



Table- Talk Notes 305 

never have any at all. And those he did buy were by 
no means so good as he might at one time have bought. 



Pure cold water should be drunk frequently every 
day to keep the system pure, while the number of 
ways in which hot water can be used as an alleviator 
of pain is legion. 



Apples, in addition to being a delicious fruit, make 
a pleasant and valuable medicine. A raw apple is 
digestible in an hour and a half, while boiled cabbage 
requires five hours. The most healthful dessert that 
can be placed on a table is a baked apple. If eaten 
frequently at breakfast with bread and butter, with- 
out meat of any kind, it has an admirable effect on 
the general system, often removing constipation, cor- 
recting acidities and cooling off febrile conditions more 
effectually than the most approved medicines. Apples 
are excellent for brain-workers, and everybody who 
has much intellectual work to do should eat them 
freely. Potatoes, on the contrary, render one dull and 
lazy, especially when eaten constantly and in excess. 



Any one who loves long words should study German. 
But the fact is these long German words are to one 
who studies them easily understood, as they are merely 
a number of simple words strung together. For in- 
stance: A Turkish snuff-box-maker is rendered in 
German, ein Constantinopolitanischerschnupfstabaks- 
dosenf abrikanter ; that is literally, a Constantinopoli- 
tan snuff -tobacco-box manufacturer. 



306 Culture by Conversation 

Cobbett speaks of the fact that we can in English do 
what the French cannot do — make compound words; 
as, Yorkshireman ; whereas the French must say, a 
man of the shire of York. But the Germans beat the 
English completely in this respect, as the above word 
shows. 

An English divine, the Rev. Mr. Byfield, wrote in 
a treatise on Corinthians, this sentence: "The im- 
mensity of Christ's divine nature hath incircumscrip- 
tibleness in respect of place." The incomprehensibil- 
ity of this sesquipedalian word to many readers is 
incontrovertible. I think it was Gladstone or one of 
his followers who used the word Antidisestablish- 
mentarians. That beats incircumscriptibleness. 



The Academy of London, in commenting on an arti- 
cle on mixed metaphors, cites a letter of the late Sir 
Ellis Ashmead Bartlett, in which the writer com- 
plained that the concert of the powers in China was 
"a mere delusive screen, agreeable in sound, very tick- 
ling to the ignorant ear, calculated to draw the cheers 
of the groundlings, but which really serves only as a 
blind to ourselves, as a cover for ministerial inaction, 
as a means of informing our rivals and foes of all our 
plans, and as a lever wherewith they are enabled to 
checkmate British diplomacy." What a wonderful 
concert this was ! 



This is almost as bad as the blundering sentence of 
the man who prayed that "the word which had been 
spoken might be like a nail driven in a sure place, 
sending its roots downward and its branches upward, 



Table- Talk Notes 807 

spreading like a green bay-tree, fair as the moon, 
clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with ban- 



ners 



I" 



IVIr. Parton, in his "Life of Voltaire," quotes an old 
"tariff of matches," in which the various degrees of 
wealth necessary for a girl to enter the different ranks 
of French society are set down as follows : "A young 
woman who had a dowry of two thousand to ten thou- 
sand francs a year was a match for a retail trader, a 
lawyer's clerk or a bailiff ; a dowry of ten thousand to 
twelve thousand francs justified a maiden in aspiring 
to a dealer in silk, a draper, an innkeeper, a secretary 
to a great lord; one with twelve thousand to twenty 
thousand francs was a match for a clerk of court, a 
court registrar, a notary; one with from twenty to 
thirty thousand francs might look as high as an advo- 
cate or a government officer of considerable rank ; one 
with from thirty to one hundred thousand francs 
might look as high as a marquis, a president of parlia- 
ment, a peer of France, a duke." 

Pretty much the same state of things exists in 
France to this day. And are we not coming to some- 
thing of the same sort in America? 

In certain circles the same state of things as that 
described by Parton exists in America ; but there are 
more love-matches here than anywhere else. I was 
eighteen months in France, and saw something of the 
state of things there. The worst of it is that a young 
man of rank and fortune never thinks of marrying at 
all until he has wasted his strength and sometimes his 
substance with unmarried and unmarriageable women. 
« « ♦ * « 



308 Culture by Conversation 

There was once an old Swiss beggar who used to 
come regularly once or twice a year to a family in 
the country, a Swiss farmer's family ; and who, being 
denied alms on one occasion, when the family was in 
some commotion, exclaimed: "Well, I shall go, and 
never return ; and then see if you will ever get a beg- 
gar to come to you again !" 

Ridiculous as this speech may seem, it is not without 
meaning. I believe that the beggar, by moving people 
to pity and almsgiving, is the means of stirring 
kindly, benevolent, and consolatory feelings in breasts 
that would otherwise be strangers to such feelings. 
In other words, the beggar confers a certain happi- 
ness on those who help him ; and this fellow knew this. 
He knew that that family, when his visits ceased, 
would never be as happy as it was before. A friend 
of mine, who is by no means rich, tells me that, al- 
though he gives a dime or a quarter to every beggar 
that accosts him, the sum of his giving does not 
amount to more than twenty-five dollars a year; and 
I am sure he gets a thousand dollars' worth out of it. 

The beggar begs by God's command. 
And gifts awake when givers sleep ; 

Swords cannot cut the giving hand. 
Nor stab the love that orphans keep. 

— Emerson. 



The following bit of useful knowledge (from the 
Washington Star) is as valuable as anything I have 
seen in any book on hygiene: 

"The air of a room may be purified in two hours 
by setting inside of it a wide mouthed pitcher filled 



Table- Talk Notes 309 

with pure cold water. In three hours at most it will 
have absorbed all the respired gases in the room, leav- 
ing the air purer by that much, but the water will 
be too filthy to use. If one but knew and could see 
what it has taken in, he would not touch it. It is esti- 
mated that a common pailful of ice-cold water will ab- 
sorb in six hours one quart of carbonic acid and sev- 
eral pints of ammonia from the air. For the purpose 
of purifying the air the water is all right, but don't 
use it to wash in or to drink. For those purposes use 
fresh water, just drawn, or use from vessels that are 
always covered either by metal or china, or by several 
folds of cloth, like a clean towel. Care in the use of 
drinking water would avert many calamities, as ty- 
phoid and other malarial fevers." 



Here is one of the most remarkable examples of the 
benefits of laughter I ever heard of. A party of 
young people, while on a picnic excursion, discovered 
a crow's nest on a rocky precipice, and started in great 
glee to see who could reach it first. Their haste being 
greater than their prudence, some lost their holds, and 
were seen rolling and tumbling down the hillside, bon- 
nets smashed, clothes torn, and postures ridiculous, 
but no one hurt. Then commenced a scene of violent 
and long-continued laughter, in which they indulged 
during the day whenever the scene was referred to ; 
and even long afterward the bare mention of the 
crow's nest occasioned renewed and irrepressible 
laughter. 

Years after this, one of their number fell ill, and 
became so low she could not speak, and was about 
breathing her last. One of the picnic party came to 



310 Culture by Conversation 

see her, gave his name, and could not be recognised 
by the sick woman until he mentioned the crow's nest, 
at which she recognised him and began to laugh, and 
continued every little while renewing her laughter. 
From that moment she began to mend, recovered, and 
still lives — a striking example of the beneficial effects 
of laughter. 



My friend, Tom Hyatt, who is a printer with $20 a 
week and a family to support — a man who has worked 
for forty years contentedly at his trade — declared he 
never saw the man, take him for all in all, with whom 
he would change places. How many men could say 
that.'' I never thought of such a thing until I began 
to consider it ; but when I did begin to think of it, 
I saw that if the opportunity offered I would also 
refuse to do anything of the kind. I saw that if 
I changed with any one else, even a Vanderbilt or an 
Astor, I would probably never be as happy, as con- 
tented, or as useful as I am. Each of us is used to 
his condition, and probably no other would suit us as 
well, or be as endurable as the one we are in. This 
is what Addison teaches in his famous allegory of 
Jupiter and his proclamation, asking every man and 
woman to throw down his burden, and then take up 
another's ; whereby not one was satisfied, and each 
implored the god to let him have his old burden back. 



"Nothing in life is more cheerful than pleasant con- 
versation, nothing more healthily stimulating both 
to the functions of the body and the activity of the 
mind. The cultivation of the easy exchange of 



Table- Talk Notes 311 

thought and experience which makes conversation one 
of the great enjoyments of hfe, the one from which is 
drawn the happiest sense of satisfaction, the glow of 
the highest enthusiasm, the saving consolation of 
hope, should surely be encouraged, not as an art but 
as a duty." — Sarah Grand, 



It is related that the actor Fechter was more than 
once the victim of an outspoken denizen of the top- 
most circle. On one occasion, in a melodrama, the 
tragedian was slowly paying over a sum of money to 
the villain. Everything depended upon whether he 
had sufficient money for his purpose, and the paying 
out was most deliberate — so deliberate, indeed, that 
a young fellow in the gallery, wearying of the scene, 
enlivened the proceedings by yelling: "Say, Mr. Fech- 
ter, give him a cheque !" On another occasion, when 
the play was "Monte Cristo," the hour twelve-thirty, 
and the end not yet in sight, the curtain rose discover- 
ing Fechter in an attitude of contemplation; not a 
movement, not a sound broke the silence, until a small 
but clear voice in the gallery queried in tones of 
anxiety, "I hope we are not keeping you up, sivV^ 



In a French theatre, while a Belgian actor was de- 
claiming: "Et dans cet embarras que dois-je faire?" 
a gamin called out: 

"Prenez la poste et retournez en Belgique par le 
chemin de fer!" 

***** 

I once asked a young Frenchman of fortune why he 



312 Culture by Conversation 

did not marry. "I would," he said, "if I could get 
acquainted with some girl I liked. You know that in 
France you cannot even talk to a young lady except 
her father or mother be present, and there is no pos- 
sibility of learning her character before marriage. 
This is all a matter of business in France. You meet 
the parents of a young lady ; say how much you have, 
what you can do for her, and her parents say the same 
to you, and, if an agreement be made, the notary is 
sent for, and the contract is drawn up, signed and 
sealed and the matter is settled. That's how we get 
married in France." 

In both France and Germany the young marriage- 
able women are esteemed solely according to the 
amount of dowry they are expected to bring ; and this 
leads, as you may imagine, to a very gross way of 
looking at women ; and, par consequence, to a very 
gross way, on the part of the women, of looking at 
men. 

♦ * * * * 

Paul Blouet (Max O'Rell) says that no man in 
France looks at a woman without a consciousness of 
sex. Nor any woman at a man without the same feel- 
ing. This is not the case with Americans. 



"Stop that whistling! Don't you know it is Sun- 
day, and the minister there is listening to you?" said 
a young officer to a sailor on board an English vessel 
on which a Presbyterian minister was a passenger. 
"Nonsense !" said the minister, "let him whistle ; it 
keeps evil thoughts out of his mind." I have always 
admired that saying and the man that said it, though 



Table-Talk Notes 313 

I do not know his name. That man knew something 
of human nature and of the workings of the human 
heart; and he had a just and generous idea of the 
Creator. Like Luther, he believed that "music drives 
the devil away." 



Mrs. Blank, the wife of a New York merchant, 
American born but of German parentage, happened 
to be on a visit to some of her kinsfolk in a certain 
town in Germany, when the schoolmaster of the place 
died, leaving a large family unprovided for. She in- 
quired what was to become of them. Become of 
them.'* Why, they would have to go to the poorhouse, 
of course. Mrs. Blank was astonished, and thought 
that such a fate was by no means a matter "of course" 
for such a family. Hiring a coach for the day, she 
went to see the head of nearly every considerable 
family in the place, and, presenting a subscription 
list, which she had headed with a goodly sum from her- 
self, she asked each one for a contribution for the un- 
fortunate family, and before she got through she 
raised several hundred dollars, enough to set up the 
poor widow in a business that enabled her to bring up 
her family respectably. "That," said she, on deliver- 
ing the money, "is the way we do things in America.'* 



At the conclusion of our Civil War the people of the 
North raised, as is well known, large sums of money 
for their successful generals, sums amounting in all 
to several hundred thousand dollars. Seeing this, 
some prominent Germans thought they ought to raise 
something for their countryman, General Sigel, who 



314 Culture by Conversation 

was also, in a measure, successful in the war. After 
scraping up all that was offered by the Germans over 
the entire country, they got together the magnificent 
sum of fifteen hundred dollars ! 

How is this to be explained? Are the Germans 
stingy? Are they unpatriotic? By no means; but 
they have not yet acquired the public spirit of Ameri- 
cans. The explanation of their conduct is this : They 
are accustomed, and have been for ages, to have every- 
thing of a public nature done for them by the gov- 
ernment; even their hospitals, theatres and churches 
are founded and provided for by the government; 
and they cannot yet conceive of individual exertion 
for the public benefit. This is why they nearly al- 
ways leave their wealth in their wills to their rela- 
tions, and never, or hardly ever, a penny to any public 
institution. 

Let me supplement this story by the remark of a 
sensible German concerning another family. I was 
walking along one day with the late Mr. Klund, prin- 
cipal of the Hoboken Academy, when we met two 
young ladies coming briskly toward us, one of whom 
was a teacher in a public, the other in a private school. 
"Look at those girls !" said he, "how neat, well dressed 
and well kept they look! If they were in Germany 
they would be in the poorhouse!" "How so?" I in- 
quired. "Why, they belong to a family of seven chil- 
dren who were left, a few years ago, on the death of 
their father, poor and unprovided for; and yet here, 
you see, they get along as well as the rest of us !" 



""WTien Sir Edwin Arnold visited New York in 
1888," says Moncure Conway, "he stayed at the home 



Tahlc-Talk Notes 315 

of Mr. Andrew Carnegie, who invited a number of 
literary people to dine with him ; and when the ladies 
had withdrawn, the conversation fell on the question 
of retaining Greek and Latin in the Normal College 
course. Sir Edwin argued warmly that the retention 
was essential to the preservation of the elegant and 
beautiful style acquired by English writers at Oxford 
and Cambridge. Andrew Carnegie thereon broke out 
with a vehement protest against the absurdity of oc- 
cupying the best years of youth with dead tongues. 
Shakespeare knew small Latin and less Greek ; he and 
Burns wrote well enough without it; and Carnegie 
prophetically declared that the great world growing 
around these cultivators of classicism was steadily 
ignoring their existence. The writers listened to were 
dealing more and more with things, with realities, not 
with phrases and words. I knew but little of Andrew 
Carnegie, but, being substantially on his side, was 
impressed with his vigour, even eloquence at times, 
and thought to myself that had Carlyle been present 
he would have taken a hand in the discussion, and sided 
with Carnegie." 

Nine out of ten of the Normal College students 
never make any use of their Greek and Latin; it 
never amounts to much anyway ; nor does what they 
learn ever materially influence their style. The same 
time devoted to French and German would be far 
more useful, not only in speaking these languages, but 
in reading French and German literature — Schiller 
and Moliere, for instance. Whoever heard of a Nor- 
mal-school graduate reading a Greek or Latin book.f^ 

^ V n» "^Ir ^ 

Some of my scholars had got into the habit of shoot- 



316 Culture by Conversation 

ing birds with flippers ; and last week, two or three of 
these little feathered creatures, still warm, were 
brought to me dead, by a little boy, who said they had 
been shot by one of his classmates. I called the boys 
up, and upbraided them for their cruelty. The next 
day, a boy brought me a handsome little redbreast, 
apparently shot in the same manner ; and, after look- 
ing at it for a moment, and thinking how cruel it was 
to destroy such poor, harmless creatures, I gave it 
back to him, determined to make a strong appeal to 
the boys. I had hardly sent him away when one of 
the girls came, weeping and in great distress, to say 
that she had lost a bird from her hat, and that one of 
the boys had got it ! I was not a little surprised, and 
immediately sent for the boy and bird. He pulled it 
out of his trousers pocket, into which it seemed a tight 
fit, and to the mingled joy and fear of the expectant 
maiden presented it to her. But, oh horror! it was 
full of blood and matted feathers ; its head and wings 
drooped deadlike, and its whole appearance soon con- 
vinced her that this robin was not her robin, and she 
went away sorrowful. 

Then I thought. Wherein is the difference between 
the cruelty of the boys and that of the girls.'* The 
boys destroy life for fun, and the girls for show! 
O girls ! you who are thought to be pitiful and tender- 
hearted, have mercy upon these poor little innocent 
creatures, who adorn God's creation much better than 
they adorn your hats, and serve God much more inno- 
cently than you do. 

***** 
I have already spoken of the gentleman who, while 



Table- Talk Notes 317 

travelling, found so much amusement in listening to 
what he called "accidental conversations." It is im- 
possible sometimes not to hear such conversations ; 
and the following, which is doubtless one of these, is 
certainly amusing, and not without a lesson in child- 
education. It is from the Washington Star. 

On the New York Central train, bound for the 
"States" Hotel at Saratoga, was a beautiful but care- 
worn woman with a spoiled child. The lovely mother 
had spoiled the child herself, and the child was now 
not only spoiling her, but everybody else. It caused 
the misery of the nurse, the careworn look of its 
mother, and the profanity of the passengers. It was 
truly an enfant terrible. After using up the nurse, 
the fashionable but careworn mother put down her 
Skye-terrier and took the child in her lap. Then the 
following dialogue ensued: 

"Ma, put up 'is window !" . 

"No, dear ; it's too cold." 

"Ma, I want 'is window up." 

"Now, lovey, 'oo don't want it up." 

"Es, me doo, too ! Put it up, Isa !" 

"Now, mamma's pretty little darling don't want to 
catch cold." 

"Me don't tare for tolH ; me want it up I" 

Then the child seemed to go all to pieces, like a biting 
parrot in a rage. The seat looked as if it were occu- 
pied by a buzz-saw and a fanning-mill. As the noise 
wore down a little, I heard the mother cooing and say- 
ing soothingly, as she raised the window: 

"There, mamma's darling, itty sweety, it sal have the 
window up — so it sal — there — ^there " 

"Me don't want it up !" cried the child, after it had 
taken in the situation. "Me want it down !" 



318 Culture by Conversation 

"No, sweety, mamma's pet said it wanted it up, 

and " 

"No, me wants it down. Me " 



"Oh, you sweet sugar soul," said the loving mother, 
folding the little boy to her breast, while the tears 
rolled down her cheeks 

"No, me ain't !" 

"Yes, precious one." 

"Naw!" and then the boy-objector, the infant Hol- 
man, resolved itself into a buzz-saw and wind-mill 
again, while it stamped its feet till clouds of dust rolled 
out of the cushions. 

"Now, darling, don't do so." 

"Es, me Willi" 

Then all the passengers could hear was the mother 
saying : 

"Now, mamma's sweet pet shouldn't do so. Dear 
little dumpling, just wait till it gets to Saratoga, and 
it shall have all the windows down in the hotel." 

"O Jerry!" exclaimed an elderly lady to her com- 
panion, as they got out of the train, "how my fingers 
did itch to give that youngster a spanking!" 

The baby didn't finally stop at the "States" Hotel, 
but became the general manager of a cottage a mile 
from Saratoga. 



After the Quarter Sessions at an ancient English 
town had come to an end, the Bar gave a complimen- 
tary dinner to the judge, on which occasion not only 
the judge but his wife was complimented highly; and 
the son of the judge, rising to reply, said: 

"Gentlemen, I thank you with all my heart for your 
esteem of my mother, but even more so for your ap- 



Table- Talk Notes 319 

preciation of my father ; for, gentlemen, even at such 
a moment as this I cannot but remember that I am 
not only the child of my mother, but also his natural 
sonr 



Who wrote these fine lines? 

Hast thou had a kindness shown? 

Pass it on ! 
'Twas not meant for thee alone; 

Pass it on! 
Let it travel down the years ; 
Let it wipe another's tears ; 

Pass it on! 
Till it at last in Heaven appears ! 

Pass it on ! 



What a damper to the aspirants for long-lasting 
literary fame is that late discovery of M. Delille, 
librarian of the Bibliotheque Nationale at Paris ! He 
declares that the paper on which books are now printed 
soon rots, and that consequently few of them have a 
chance of long life. Wood-pulp paper does not last 
like linen-rag paper ; the chemicals used in the manu- 
facture thereof cause its speedy decay. 

There is one consolation in this discovery: the bad 
and the worthless books will also rot and disappear, 
and that is something to be thankful for. One would 
think these ought, on account of their contents, to de- 
cay faster than the others; but this is not likely to 
occur. A good book will probably live by its repeated 
editions — unhappily some bad ones live in that way, 
too — and thus, by its educating and elevating influ- 



320 Culture by Conversation 

ence, help the bad ones into their graves. That, at 
any rate, is the only hope for a good writer. If he 
do not write what is worthy of perpetuity, his very 
name will be unknown to that much-respected circle 
of readers, posterity. 

Byron little thought of this when he wrote: "What 
is the end of fame ? 'Tis but to fill a certain portion 
of uncertain paper." 



Is it not strange that no American or British poet 
has made anything of that stirring incident in the 
great storm which occurred some years ago at the 
Samoa Islands, where the crew of an American man- 
of-war exhibited, in the face of almost certain death, 
the most magnanimous and heroic conduct, in cheer- 
ing their successful rival, the British ship Calliope, at 
her escape? I never read anything more inspiring in 
my life. In the summer of 1889 there was a number 
of American and British men-of-war, besides many 
merchantmen, at the Samoa Islands. Now when the 
sudden and terrific hurricane came on, the task of these 
vessels was to get away from the dangerous coast, 
where they were in imminent danger of being driven on 
the rocks, and on which several of them were finally 
driven and lost. While the officers and crew of the 
American ship Trenton were doing their utmost to get 
out to sea, with furnaces at full blast, engines driven 
at their utmost capacity, every scrap of sail set, and 
every art of seamanship exerted, they saw their noble 
vessel, in spite of all their efforts, gradually nearing 
the fatal coast; while at the same time they beheld 
the British ship Calliope, which had for a time, like 
themselves, struggled in vain to make any headway, 



Table- Talk Notes 321 

gradually gaining on the hurricane, forging her way 
out of danger, and getting out to sea. Now, though 
themselves doomed to destruction, and beholding their 
rival escaping in safety, the crew of the Trenton sent 
up a ringing cheer at the sight, encouraging and ani- 
mating their British rival while they themselves were 
going down to death. Was not that grand? Is there 
anything finer in history? Certainly it matches the 
famous episode of the British soldiers on the Birken- 
head, who, after sending off the women and children 
in all the boats they had at command, ranged them- 
selves on deck, fired a salute, and went down with their 
vessel. 



Heretofore it has been supposed that the reason why 
insanity is most common among country people is be- 
cause of their isolation or solitariness. But the expe- 
rience of the superintendent of an insane asylum. Dr. 
S. H. Talcott, tells a different story. He declares 
that it. is because farmers have too little sleep. When 
we recollect how early the farmers have to be "up 
and stirring," especially in the summer months, and 
how long and hard they have to toil, this statement 
seems not ill founded. Farmers' work, like women's 
work, is never done ; in fact, farmers have little time 
for anything but work. Mr. E. E. Hale recommends 
nine hours' sleep to those engaged in severe mental 
toil ; and surely those engaged in severe physical toil 
ought to have as much. How many hours' sleep do 
farmers get? To bed at nine or ten, they are gener- 
ally up at three or four, and labour all day long. 

In view of this fact how significant, how wonderfully 
true and impressive, are the words of the great 



322 Culture by Conversation 

dramatic poet, written four hundred years ago, yet 
growing in force and significance as the years roll on : 

Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleave of care, 
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
Chief nourisher in life's feast. 

How came Shakespeare to know this ? How came he 
to know almost everything about human nature? Men 
of nearly every profession claim him as one of their 
guild; and yet I have never heard that the weavers 
claimed him, though they might do so, from this fine 
figure of the sleave (floss or unwrought silk, used for 
weaving), which, one would imagine, none but a 
weaver could use so aptly. 



Some brain-workers find themselves unable to sleep 
when they want to ; their brain goes "marching on." 
The late Rev. Dr. Alexander gives the following excel- 
lent remedy for this ailment: 

Clergymen, authors, teachers, and other men of re- 
flective habits lose much health by losing sleep, and 
this because they carry their trains of thought to bed 
with them. In my earlier years I greatly injured my- 
self by studying my sermons in bed. The best thing 
one can do is to take care of the last half hour before 
retiring. Devotion being ended, something may be 
done to quiet the strings of the harp, which other- 
wise would contiue to vibrate. Let me commend to 
you this maxim, which I somewhere learned from Dr. 
Watts, who says that in his boyhood he received it 
from the lips of Dr. John Owen — a very good pedi- 
gree for a maxim : Break the chain of thought at bed- 



Tabic- Talk Notes 323 

time by something at once serious and agreeable. If 
you wish to know my method, it is to turn over the 
pages of my English Bible, alighting on a passage 
here, a passage there, backward and forward, without 
plan, and without allowing my mind to fasten on any, 
leaving any passage the moment it ceases to interest 
me. Some tranquillising word often becomes a divine 
message of peace: "He giveth his beloved sleep." 

How about the glancing over these clippings and 
jottings.? Would they not do as well? Would they 
not serve to break the chain of connected thought, and 
lull the mind to sleep while musing on them? 



An English prison-keeper, on showing a visitor 
around, said: "If the men were not in chapel I could 
show you our innocent man." "What! an innocent 
man here ? Nonsense !" "We have nearly always one, 
sir, and have had three at one time." "How do you 
find them out?" "Find them out? Why, by the 
smell of them, sir. You don't suppose we live among 
eight hundred of the greatest villains of the earth 
without knowing the smell of an honest man !" "Well, 
granting all that ; what do you do then ?" "Tell the 
deputy governor, who at once turns up their papers." 
"Well, what then?" "Then we gets them a blue cap 
as soon as we can." "What good does that do?" 
"Why, it gives them many privileges and some hope." 

I could not help thinking, what a pity the judge and 
jury don't know an innocent man by the smell of 
him! 

« « 4K « 4i( 

Here is a good legal hit. In an accident case, the 
doctor (as witness in a cross-examination) laid great 



324 Culture by Conversation 

stress upon a superinduced habit of vomiting as evi- 
dence of constitutional mischief, and counsel cross- 
examined on this. 

"Have you seen him vomit, doctor?" "No, but I've 
heard him retch." "That's not vomiting" — a point 
wrangled over for five minutes, when counsel scored 
thus: "My lord, retching is not vomiting. I have 
often seen my learned friend sick of his case, but 
never knew him to throw up his brief !" 



Does the reader know that sleep begins at the feet, 
and that unless his feet be warm, sleep will not come? 
A basin or two of water in the sleeping room, too, will, 
by the moistening and mollifying influence of the 
water on the air, aid in producing sleep. 



There is probably no more miserable or disagreeable 
situation in the world than that of the man who has 
contracted debts which he is unable to pay. It is less 
so with one who has large debts, I think, than with one 
who has a number of small ones ; for most people look 
upon a large debtor as a clever fellow, while the small 
debtor is regarded as a rascal. Horace Greeley speaks 
strongly on this subject: "For my own part — and I 
speak from sad experience — I would rather be a con- 
vict in a State prison or a slave in a rice-swamp than 
to pass through life under the harrow of debt. Hun- 
ger, cold, rags, hard work, contempt, suspicion, un- 
just reproach, these are disagreeable; but debt is in- 
finitely worse than all of these. And if it had pleased 
God to spare my sons to be the solace and support of 
my declining years, the lesson I should have most 



Table- Talk Notes 325 

earnestly impressed upon them is this : *Never run into 
debt.' " 

This is strong language; but Horace Greeley knew 
what he was talking about. Both Kant and Emerson 
held this oracle to be imperative: 

Wouldst thou stop the source of every ill? 
Then pay each debt, as if God Himself did bring the 
bill. 

***** 

There are many stories told of Charles James Fox 
which show him to have been, with all his faults, a most 
princely fellow, strongly reminding me, in some re- 
spects, of Shakespeare's Prince Hal. One of these 
stories is that of the tradesman who, having a note 
of hand against him for £50, had in vain called, 
again and again, upon j\Ir. Fox, to get it cashed. 
At last the tradesman became impatient, and, push- 
ing aside the servants, came in unannounced upon 
the statesman, whom he found counting out gold on 
the table before him. "What do you want, sir.?" "I 
want this note paid." "I cannot pay it now ; I have 
no money." "No money ! what is all this gold for?" 
"That is to pay debts of honour." "Then," said the 
tradesman, striding toward the grate-fire, and put- 
ting his note of hand into it, "mine, too, is a debt of 
honour." "Ah!" said Mr. Fox, looking at him with 
admiration, "that changes the situation: here is your 
money." 

But here is a still better story of him — one which 
shows what an English gentleman is, as compared with 
one who, though a prince, was far from being a gen- 
tleman. It is Daniel O'Connell who tells the story. 
The prince (afterward George IV.) was dining 



326 Culture by Co7iversatio7i 

with Mrs. Fitzherbcrt and INIr. Fox, when, after 
dmner, Mrs. Fitzherbert said : "By the bye, ^Ir. Fox, 
I had almost forgotten to ask you what you did say 
about me in the House of Commons the other night? 
The newspapers misrepresent things so very strangely, 
you know, that one cannot depend upon them. You 
were made to say that the prince authorised you to 
deny his marriage with me." The prince made moni- 
tory grimaces at Fox, and immediately said: "Upon 
my honour, my dear, I never authorised him to deny 
it." "Upon 7711/ honour, sir, you did/' said Fox, ris- 
ing from the table ; "I had always thought your father 
was the greatest liar in England, but now I see that 
you are." And Mr. Fox left the prince and his dis- 
carded consort, never to trust him again, or to speak 
to him, until, years afterwards, he was compelled to 

do so. 

« « « « « 

It is curious to observe how different the effect of 
criticism is on different minds. With some, it stirs 
them to new and better efforts ; with others, it de- 
presses aud discourages them, rendering them inca- 
pable of further effort. I knew a teacher who, in any 
class-lesson given before an audience, would go on 
quietly, even languidly, until some one offered a criti- 
cism, when, at once, all his powers seemed to be called 
into play, and his lesson became a brilliant one. An- 
other would become confused and incapacitated by the 
very same thing. The elder Booth, who was so cowed 
and depressed by the brilliant acting of Kean that he 
refused to complete his engagement with him when he 
played at Coven t Garden, determined to begin anew in 
America ; and here, having no rival to depress him, he 
surpassed even Kean himself in Shakespearian roles. 



Table- Talk Notes 327 

The following story, from the autobiography of 
Giovanni Dupre, is worth telling and remembering: 
One day, in the studio of INIagi, I and another young 
man were modelling together a man's torso. A friend 
of IVIagi, a painter, as he passed by us, paused, and, 
after looking at our two copies, said, turning to my 
rival and patting him gently on the shoulder, "I am 
delighted ; this is an artist !" Then, turning to me, 
with an expression of regret, he said: *'A rivcdciia :'' 
"I shall see you again" — equal to the French '*au re- 
voir.** But it has also a slightly sarcastic meaning. 
My good reader, do you think that made me despair? 
No, by the Lord ! I tell you rather that these words 
were seared upon my brain as with a red-hot iron, and 
there they still remain, and they did me a great deal 
of good. The professor who spoke them (yes, he was 
a professor), three years afterwards embraced me in 
the Accademia delle Belle Arti, before my "Abel." 
My rival is perfectly sound in health, and is fatter 
and more vigorous than I am ; but he is not a sculptor. 
So, my dear young artist, courage ! 



I have lately heard of a gentleman who, after a most 
active, industrious, and varied business career, suc- 
ceeded in making a fortune after he had attained his 
sixtieth year. He had been a clerk in New York City ; 
had then opened a store in a Long Island town ; kept 
at this for years, until success seemed impossible ; then 
sold out for a few hundred dollars, and went West, 
where he bought lots at ten dollars each, opened a land- 
office, and went into real estate ; succeeded while the 
boom lasted, but went down again when it subsided ; 
bought a farm and worked it for years, but succumbed 



328 Culture by Conversation 

to the blizzards and the grasshoppers ; again sold out 
and went to California, where he succeeded in business 
sufficiently well to marry and set up housekeeping; 
after which his wife died, and business again failed; 
moved to Oregon and got a political office there, which 
he held until the wrong party came into power; and 
then returned to New York, fifty years old, and began 
clerking again. But now he had had experience; he 
had become careful and cautious ; had learned to work 
well ; and he got into favour with his employers, who 
promoted him to the position of head clerk; at sixty 
he became a partner, and in five years amassed a re- 
spectable fortune, sufficient to enable him to retire 
and live like a gentleman for the rest of his life. 

Now, what does this story teach us? First, that a 
man need not despair because he is sixty years old; 
nay, he may, rightly considered, regard his chances as 
better than ever. For, if a man has the right stuff in 
him, he will be a far wiser man at that age than he ever 
was before, and act accordingly. I often hear it said : 
"They don't want an old man now; the cry is for 
young blood." Well, let them cry what they please ; 
but an ounce of wisdom, a grain of prudence, is worth 
a ton of young blood. Secondly, a young man is not 
generally the safest ; the big losses are usually made 
by young bloods ; the fortunes by men of mature 
years. True wisdom begins at about forty; all the 
years before are training and tentative years ; it is 
only after that age, sometimes after forty, that a 
man begins to take sound views of life, moves slowly 
but surely, and finally "gets there" — winds up with 
a name and a fortune worth having. Most men strive 
for "more, more" until they land in bankruptcy. 



> 



Table- Talk Notes 329 

The editor of the British Weekly and the Bookman 
of London is one of the best known of the little coterie 
of Scotch journalists in London. During his expe- 
rience as editor, contributor and author, Dr. W. 
Robertson Nicoll has been thrown into contact with 
many interesting and eminent personalities, and a 
book of personal recollections from him could not but 
be entertaining and instructive. 

In the volume, "The Key of the Blue Closet," 
Dr. Nicoll says of himself: "Personally, I am not 
skilled in conversation, but I pride myself on a 
certain knack in asking questions. In this way much 
has come to me, and many things that were not asked 
for. You might not care for them, but I take pleasure 
in thinking that John Leech, when he died, left be- 
hind him forty pairs of trousers and forty-six pots of 
cayenne pepper. I like to know that Professor Cowell 
bought one boot at a time, and that an elastic-sided 
boot." It is this talent for noting immediately, and 
remembering, the little interesting bits of information 
about persons and things — things, perhaps, not neces- 
sarily of great importance — that must have con- 
tributed in a large degree to Dr. Nicoll's success as a 
journalist." 

Curran, the Irish lawyer, was once cross-questioning 
an infamous witness in a certain trial. "Now, tell 
me, is there anybody in this court whom you would 
not dispose of for a consideration?" "Oh! now then, 
but it isn't your honour that I would do any harm to." 
"And why .?" "Why, sir, I wouldn't be offending your 
honour with the rason." "You must answer the ques- 
tion," says the judge. "Why, then, sure it's because 
of the wart on his nose, which is how the Divil has set 
his mark on him for his own !" 

***** 



330 Culture hy Conversation 

Mr. Thackeray, who is a most entertaining and lov- 
able companion, was delivering his lectures on the 
Four Georges in London when Miss Bronte, the 
authoress of "Jane Eyre," came to town to hear and 
to see him. Thackeray arranged a dinner in her 
honour, to which he invited several. lady authors to 
meet her, as well as one or two of his especial in- 
timates. This dinner was not a great success, which 
was perhaps owing to Miss Bronte's inability to fall 
in with the easy badinage of the well-bred people with 
whom she felt herself surrounded. 

"Alert-minded and keen-brained herself," says the 
biographer of Mrs. Brookfield, "she w^as accustomed 
only to the narrow Hteralness of her own circle, and 
could scarcely have understood the rapid give and 
take, or the easy conventional grace of these new 
friends. Also she may hardly have appreciated the 
charming conciseness with which they told their 
stories ; for the members of this set were the first to 
break away from the pedantic ponderousness usual 
with all great talkers, even those of their own time; 
and Miss Bronte, a square peg in a round hole, was 
doubtless, too, dismayed at anecdotes that gained in 
elegance as they lost in accuracy." 



Have you ever noticed what a dreary thing it is to 
read a book of nothing but witticisms? It is some- 
thing "whereof a little more than a little is by much 
too much." Is it not singular that Charles Lamb, 
in his famous Essay on Roast Pig, never once ex- 
presses any sympathy for the poor young pigs that 
are roasted alive? Can any one laugh at this story? 

As for poor Sheridan, does the perusal of his studied 



Table-Talk Notes 331 

witticisms excite anything more than a melancholy 
smile? Poor Sherry! he was a man worthy of better 
and nobler things, and but for his titled and noble 
friends, he would have been a great and glorious man, 
full of true wit, humor, and sound sense. But the 
Prince Regent and his riotous company ruined him, 
just as it did many others. Here is one of his typical 
witticisms, gotten off probably in the fashionable 
company at Brooks's: 

The Prince came in and said 'twas winter, 
Then put to his head the rummer ; 

When swallow after swallow came. 
And then he pronounced it summer ! 

Imagine the guffaw that followed this witty sally! 
These were the glorious flush days when fame and 
fortune followed him ; but what of those days when he 
was left alone, pooi", penniless, sick and utterly neg- 
lected .'' 



When Sir Richard Owen, the anatomist, was in hum- 
ble circumstances at Lancaster, he wished to possess 
himself of the head of a negro who had been executed 
there, and repaired to the jail to procure it after 
nightfall. Having secured his prize and placed it 
in a blue bag, he was tripping down a street which 
descended somewhat steeply from the prison, and the 
night being frosty and slippery and the bag imper- 
fectly tied, Owen slipped and let fall the bag, on 
which the head fell out and went bounding and bounc- 
ing down the street, till it arrived at a row of houses 
at right angles to the steep hill, where was a door 



332 Culture by Conversation 

partly open. Against this door the head came like 
a cannon ball and leaped into the midst of a party 
of women drinking tea! Owen followed it and se- 
cured the thing again and bolted, leaving the women 
in terror lest he had come to cut their heads off ! 



INDEX 



Accidental conversations, 31 
Actor, Belgian, how he was 

interrupted, 311 
Adams, Charles Francis, xvi 
Addison, Joseph, silent in 

company, 191 
Address to graduates of a 

law school, 301 
iEschylus, Sophocles, Eurip- 
ides, their age, x 
Alcott, Louisa, her wit, 107 
Americans travelling in Eng- 
. land, 118; liberal to foreign- 
ers, 206; richest people in 
the world, 281 
A natural son, his speech, 319 
Anne, Queen, age of, xi 
Answers, clever, by witnesses 

in court, 112 
Apples, their use as a medi- 
cine, 305 
Arguers, their folly, 68 
Argument, when properly 

used, 67-69 
Arnold, Dr. T., his estima- 
tion of conversation, 13; 
as a teacher, 26 
Arnold, Sir Edwin, on the 
study of Greek and Latin, 
314 
Aspasia, her circle, x 
Author, young, publishing his 



book at his own expense, 
275 

Author, young, his disap- 
pointment, 279 

Authors, their character, their 
likes and dislikes, 195 

Bacon, Lord, Donnelly on, 

11; made collections of 

witticisms, 257 
Bagehot, Walter, on literary 

men, 48; quotation from, 

13; his witty saying, 146 
Bags, wind-bags, 110 
Balliol men, their positions, 

92 
Barnum, P. T., life of, by 

Benton, 163 
Bartlett, Sir E. Ashmead, his 

mixed metaphors, 306 
Beaconsfield, Lord, his wit, 

40, 87 
Beard, Dan, at the Twilight 

Club, 158 
Benton, Joel, at the Twilight 

Club, 162 
Berkeley, his theory of vision, 

44 
Berkeley, Lord, how his pres- 
ence of mind saved him, 89 
Berry, Miss, on dark hair, 

blue eyes, etc., 292 



334 



Index 



Best conversers, 72 

Bethel, Sir Richard and his 
son, 95 

Big eaters, 270 

Binney, Rev. Horace, and the 
young clergyman, 102 

Blessington's, Lady, reply to 
Louis Napoleon, 98 

Blind man in New York, 
257, 258 

Blundering sentence, 306 

Bonaparte, Napoleon, how 
hit by lady, 97 

Book learning and world 
knowledge, xiii 

Book reviewers, their work, 
12 

Books on education, x 

Books printed on wood-pulp 
paper, their speedy decay, 
319 

Booth, Mrs. Ballington, at 
the Twilight Club, 160 

Booth, the elder, actor, how 
depressed, 326 

Boswell, James, his life of 
Johnson, 77; his task diffi- 
cult, 84; Macaulay on, 78 

Boy absent from school, 259 

Boy in a shower, 267 

"Breadwinners," how orig- 
inated, 42 

Breathing — its misuse, 291 

Brewster, Chief Justice, what 
he thought of women, 30 

Brookfield, Mrs., on conver- 
sation at dinner, 330; on 
Macaulay, 82 



Bronson, Alcott, his age, xi; 
his character, 54 

Brown, Dr. John, disliked 
composition, 196 

Browning, the poet, 197 

Brummel, the dandy, well 
answered, 90; how received 
by George IV., 91 

Buckle, Henry Thomas, xiii; 
on men and women as talk- 
ers, 158; how he refreshed 
his mind, 133; his conversa- 
tion, 187, 188, 189; his talks 
with passengers, 205; on 
conversers, 288 

Buckley, Dr., his question of 
Bishop Simpson, 106 

Bunyan, John, his education, 
5 

Burdett, Sir Francis, severely 
replied to, 94 

Burke, Edmund, what he 
said of Fox, 18; his "Re- 
flections," 44; parallel be- 
tween Burke and Johnson, 
64 

Burns, Robert, owed nothing 
to a college, 5, 6; quotation 
from, 173; his remarkable 
conversation, 194; com- 
pared his powers with those 
of others, 6 

Burton, Lord, anecdote of, 
218 

Burton, the comedian, in a 
law case. 111 

Business men as men of 
genius, 294, 295. 



Index 



335 



Butler, author of "Hudibras," 
as a talker, 190 

Byron, Lord, Trelawney's re- 
flections on, 62; his passion 
for nature, 133 



Calliope, British steamer, her 
escape, 320 

"Cambridge Apostles," 13, 
note 

Canadian lawj'er, his speech, 
274 

Carlyle, quotation from, 58; 
his declaration, 58; on the 
best education, 154; and the 
King of Prussia, 280 

Carlyle, Mrs., her interview 
with Charlotte Cushman, 
147 

Carter, Walter S., address to 
law students, 301 

Cavour, the Italian states- 
man, 145 

Chambers, Robert, his meet- 
ing with Sydney Smith, 168 

Chantrey, the sculptor, on long 
lip, 297 

Charity, not found in Ger- 
many, 313 

Christ, the Divine Man, how 
He taught, 27 

Church-organist, story of, 264 

Cicero, his collections, 257 

Cigar, its effect, 288 

Clapp, Henry, his saying, 103, 
274 

Clarke, James Freeman, his 



characterisation of two 
young men, 303 

Clay, Henry, his education, 19 

Clergyman and his parish- 
ioners, 9; who became a 
lawyer, 174; and coupler, 
219; wise remark of, 300 

Clerk, WilUam, and the 
stranger, 141 

Club life, 29 

Clubs, women in, 28 

Cobbett, life of, 161 ; on com- 
pound words, 306 

Codman, Captain, at the Twi- 
light Club, 164, 165 

Cold water, its influence, 305 

Colds, how caught, 287 

Coleridge, S. T., quotation 
from, 9; his "Ancient Mar- 
iner," 45; his conversation, 
57; with the silent rustic, 
128, 130; on diamond work- 
ers, 9 

Combie, Laird of, and Miss 
MacNabb, 90 

Company to read Shake- 
speare, 74 

Constant, Benj amin, and 
Madame De Stael, 33 

Convention, dentists', 7-9 

Conversation among Euro- 
peans and Americans a 
mighty factor in education, 
xiv; reciprocally beneficial, 
32; in Germany, France, 
England, and Scotland, 33; 
love of, 37; suggestions 
from, 42; of authors, 180, 



836 



Index 



181 ; its value to the French 
author, 186; its stimulating 
effects, 310 

Conversing with a stranger, 
208 

Conway, Moncure D., on Lon- 
don, 278; on the study of 
Greek and Latin, 315 

Cornhill, etc., 107 

Courtier and the king, 304 

Cowper, the poet, 42-56 

Critic and the fly, 285 

Criticism, its effects on dif- 
ferent minds, 326 

Cruelty to birds, 316 

Curran, J. P., could not write, 
55; Quin's friendship for, 
213; in cross-examining, 
329 

Curtis, G. W., on Emerson's 
Club, 161 

Cushman, Charlotte, her in- 
terview with Mrs. Carlyle, 
147 



Dana, the poet, 273 

Debate, its use, 72 

Debts, their terrible nature, 
324 

Defoe, his mistake in Rob- 
inson Crusoe, 135 

Degrees for dollars, 107 

DeQuincey, Thomas, his par- 
allel between Burke and 
Johnson, 63; on raconteurs, 
140 

De Stael, her conversation 



with Benjamin Constant, 
33; on the beauties of na- 
ture, 134 

Diamond workers, 9 

Dickens, Charles, as a writer, 
5^, 53; his conversation, 
187 

Diderot, his influence on 
Rousseau, 59 

Disraeli, his reply, 93; on his 
Jewish origin, 292 

Dix, Miss Dorothy, her elo- 
quence, 25 

Dogs, their sense of smell, 
260 

Donnelly, Ignatius, on 
Shakespeare, 11 

Douglas, Sir John, at the 
hustings, 208 

Drawing people out in con- 
versation, 124 

Drummond, Professor, 42 

Dupr^, the sculptor, his con- 
duct, 327 

Dyke, Dr. Van, his assertion, 
101 ; reply to young gentle- 
man, 103 

Earl of Chatham, 124 

Earl of Nassau, his polite- 
ness, 221 

Eckermann, Peter, his report 
of Groethe's conversation, 
201 

Edward VII, King of Eng- 
land, and the American 
lady, 125; public speaking, 
126' 



Index 



337 



Eldon, Lord, and Lord Sto- 

well, their trick, 109 
Eliot, George, origin of 

"Adam Bede," 45 
Elizabeth, Queen, no washing 

of clothes in her time, 282 
Emerson, R. W., age of, xi; 

quotation from, 3; in New 

York, 133; on conversation, 

191 
Emmet, Robert, meeting 

about, 211; encounter with 

friends of, 211 
English now spoken by 300 

millions; freaks of, 283 
English gentlemen on Rhine 

steamer, 209; at Oxford, 

118; reserve of, 205 
English girl who lived near 

Newgate, 259 
Englishman and Hollander, 

217 
Englishman's reply to Austri- 
an, 92 
Englishmen and Americans 

become asses, 107 
Englishmen, how they got 

their degrees, 107 
Evarts' reply to Lord Cole- 
ridge, 100 
Everett, Edward, and Judge 

Story, 95 

Features of the dead, 299 
Fechter, the actor, some of 

his experiences, 311 
Fellow of Oriel, how an- 
swered, 94 



Fichte, the philosopher, in 
conversation, 192 

Field, Marshall, his wit, 300 

Fields, James T., and Long- 
fellow, 46 

Foord, John, at the Twilight 
Club, 161 

Foreigners, mistakes of, 107, 
296, 297 

Fox, Charles J., compared 
with Henry Clay, 21; his 
education, 18-21 ; could not 
write, 55', and the trades- 
man, 325; with George IV. 
and Mrs. Fitzherbert, 325 

Francis, Sir Philip, what he 
said of Fox, 18 

Frankfort, Jews in, 206 

Franklin, Benjamin, in 
France, 123 

Free thinkers in conversation, 
70 

French ambassador, a lady's 
reply to, 91, 92 

Frenchman, why he did not 
marry, 312 

French salons, authors in, 
184, 185 

Frenchwoman on Voltaire's 
talk, 86 

Garfield, President, memorial 
meeting at Exeter HaU, 
London, 105; what he said 
of Mark Hopkins, 26; 
speeches of, 27 

Garfield, Mrs., reference to, 
105 



838 



Index 



Gay, the poet, inscription en 
his tombstone, 141 

Genius, how defined, 273 

Gentleman who hated society, 
135 

Gentlemen collecting for a 
hospital, 266 

Gentlemen, the true, 119, 120 

GeoflFrin, Madame, her salon, 
185 

George, Henry, his Progress 
and Poverty, 10 

George IV., his conduct com- 
pared with that of Prince 
Hal, 91 

German innkeeper's blunder, 
107 

Germans, their contributions, 
314 

Germans, how they study, 307 

Germany, schools in, 169; 
poets and novelists in, 194; 
Jews in, 206 

Gilbert, the composer, his 
witty reply, 108 

Glennie, Rev. Mr., on Buckle, 
85 

Goethe, Wolfgang, his educa- 
tion, 14; quotation from, 7; 
his character, 40; his talk, 
45; his new skin, 196; story 
of, 201; meditating suicide, 
269; conversations with, 201, 
note 

Goethe and Schiller, their mu- 
tual aid and friendship, 61 

Goldsmith, Oliver, his educa- 
tion, 56; his father, 6Q-^ in 



conversation, 183, 184; his 

shyness, 295 
Good readers, 8 
Granville, Lord, and Mr. 

Lowell, 99 
Great readers, 11 
Greek and Latin, study of, 

315 
Greeley, Horace, on debts, 

324 
Greenwood, Grace, her wit, 

107 

Hale, Edward Everett, on 
hereditary genius, 69 

Harris, Dr. W. T., what he 
said of Oxford, 117, 118 

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, his 
shyness, 194; and Longfel- 
low, 46 

Heart, how it works, 272 

Heaven, surprises there, 279 

Heinemann, Mr., and Mr. 
Archer, 233 

Henry, Patrick, his education, 
15-18 

Henson, Dr., his speech on 
fools, 104 

Heredity, 124 

Hill, Rowland, witty reply of» 
106 

Hobbes, on life in the coun- 
try, 134 

Holmes, Dr. O. W., quotation 
from, 9; advice to young 
author, 83; on jerkiness, 
136 

Holyoke, J. C, on debate, 72 



Index 



339 



Hook, Theodore, his pun on 

Dunlop, 99 
Hopkins, Mark, what Garfield 

said of him, 26 
Horse-dealer and his son, 170 
How the heart rests, 271 
How to know innocent people 

in prison, 323 
Humor possessed by all great 

writers, 102 
Hyatt, Tom, his declaration, 

310 

Imitator, what one is. 111 

Independence, 266, 267. 

Indian, all face, 289 

Insanity, where most com- 
mon, 321 

Irish bulls, 108 

Irishman and his will, 170; 
his politeness, 205; attack 
of, 212; on the ferryboat, 
263; his reply to Ashmead 
Barlett, 2Q5 

Irving, Washington, 211 

Italian's inscription on tomb- 
stone, 290 

It might have been worse, 290 

Japanese, reply of, 104 
JeflFerson, Thomas, reply to 

French ambassador, 104 
Johnson, Dr., on his talk, 14; 
Boswell's Life of, 76; his 
opinion of the country, 134; 
compared with Goldsmith 
in conversation, 184; how he 
learned correct speech, 223; 



how he conquered Wilkes, 

224-228 
Jonson, Ben, at the Mermaid, 

xi 
Junius on independence, 267 

Klund, Philip, what he said 
of women in Germany, 314 

Knack in asking questions, 
329 

Knowledge derived from ar- 
tists, etc., 143 

Lamb, Charles, in the coun- 
try, 134; at Oxford, 134; on 
roast pig, 330; on Words- 
worth, 80 

Landor, W. S., on dining, 43; 
his "Conversations," 202 

Language of conversation, 13 

Laughter, its benefits, 309 

Lawyer's life, its advantages, 
113 

Leader writer, his invited 
guests, 144 

Leech, John, 329 

Lincoln, President, his rep- 
artee to Douglas, 96, 275; 
on story telling, 255 

Lips, not too long, 292 

Literary men, their hobbies, 
269; their competitors, 285 

Living in seclusion, its ef- 
fects, 6 

Locke, the philosopher, his 
questioning, 195 

Lockhart, 202 



340 



Index 



Logan, General, on American 
political life, 267 

London, living in, 278 

Longfellow, Henry, how his 
greatest poem originated, 
46 

Lord, Dr. John, on influence 
of women, 150 

Louis XIV. and the mayor, 
91 

Lowell, James Russell, his 
education, 4; his answer to 
Lord Granville, 99; at Exe- 
ter Hall, 105; to Dean 
Howells, on women, 124; 
his conversation, 199, 200. 

Luce, Captain, his conduct at 
the wreck of the Arctic, 89 

Lytton, Lord, on a fine con- 
verser, 78; on the eruption 
of Vesuvius in 79, 47 

Macaulay, Lord, his clerk 

work, 270; on Boswell, 78, 

79; Smalley on, 80 
Mackenzie, author of "The 

Man of Feeling," his story, 

261 
Mackintosh as a converser, 56 
McAdam, George H., at the 

Twilight Club, 163 
McCarthy, Justin, on Sir 

Alexander Cockburn and 

Dr. Quain, 85 
"Magic Flute," its author, 108 
Making a fortune after sixty, 

327, 328 
Maginn, 138 



MahafFy, Dr., with country 
people, 131 

Man of one idea, 136, 137 

Mann, Horace, xii 

Manning, Cardinal, his reply, 
94; his remarkable memory 
for faces, 222; his power in 
conversation, 220 

Marlborough, Duke of, his 
skill as a diplomatist, 220 

Marriage in France and Ger- 
many, 312 

Marrying in France, 307 

Men of business, why they 
fail, 294 

Men who have attained emi- 
nence, 5 

Michelet on a good wife, 154 

Miller, Hugh, his Hfe, 269 

Mirabeau, his practice, 58; his 
thinking, 58 

Missing the ass. 111 

Moli6re, age of, xi; his educa- 
tion, 5, 6; at the Hotel de 
Rambouillet, 186 

Money and income, 173 

Moore, Lady, and Lady Man- 
ners, their wit, 97 

Mother and child in the rail- 
way train, 317 

Mozart, decomposing, 108 

Much bad in the best of us, 
etc., 291 

Miiller, Max, his declaration, 
129; on Browning, 197; his 
talk with Holmes, 71 

Napoleon and the Italian 



Index 



341 



lady, 97; on long noses, 

29:2; and the bell-ringer, 

262 
Nicoll, Dr. W. Robertson, his 

recollections, 329 
Number of scholars in the 

United States, 265 
Norbury, Lord, his wit, 101 
North, Lord, and the barking 

dog, 109 
Novalis on seed-corn items, 

255 
New Review, name proposed, 

107 
Newspaper writer, lack of 

humour in, 282 

Office boy, his clever answer, 
284 

On him who draws people out, 
155 

On taciturn men, 155 

Orange, Prince of, in death, 
299 

O'Rell, Max, at the TwiHght 
Club, 163; book that helped 
him, 172; on women in 
France and America, 312 

Owen, Sir Richard, the anato- 
mist, 331 

Oxford, its refined atmos- 
phere, 117 

Palmerston, the statesman, 
his declaration at a dinner 
party, 145 

Parnell, encounter with a 
friend of, 211 



Parton, James, on a tariff of 
matches, 307; his life of 
Voltaire, 280 

Pat's wives, 102 

Persian poet, quotation from, 
269 

Pericles, age of, x 

People who live longest, 272 

Peel, Sir Robert, 79 

Phelps, William Walter, 27 

Phillips, Wendell, Redpath 
on, at the Twilight Club, 175 

Phrenology untrustworthy, 
292 

Physician, his sense of smell, 
261 

Pictures, buying, 304 

Pindar, Peter, his witty at- 
tack, 96 

Pitcher of water, its use, 308 

Pitt, Earl of Chatham, 124 

"Plutarch's Lives," Mr. Lang- 
horne on, 65 

Poe, Edgar Allan, his conver- 
sation, 194 

Poets, their indebtedness to 
women, 150 

Politician who lost a hun- 
dred-doUar bill, 289 

Pompous utterer of truisms, 
138 

Pope, the poet, envious of 
Addison, 191 

Porson, the scholar, witty re- 
ply of, 106 

Porter, Horace, his child's 
story, 259 

Practice and practices, 112 



342 



Index 



Practice in conversation, 135 
Precise speech, 71 
Prince of Wales, 196 
Prior, Matthew, at the court 

of France, 92 
Proverbs of different nations, 

Quin, the actor, his friendly 

act, 213 
Quoting from Scripture, 265 

Racine, his conversation, 195; 
age of, xi 

Raconteur of "good things," 
139-141 

Raising money for our gen- 
erals after the war, 313 

Raleigh, Walter, at the Mer- 
maid, xi 

Randolph of Roanoke, his 
wit, 99 

Receptions of cultivated peo- 
ple in France, 186 

Redpath, James, on famous 
men at the Twilight Club, 
175 

Reply of a judge's son in a 
speech, 318 

Reporting a conversation, 6 

Retorts at the Twilight Club, 
174 

Reynolds, Joshua, with John- 
son, 223; his advice, 173 

Rhodes, Cecil, his bequest, 
117; his will, 117 

Richelieu, Cardinal, how he 
discovered a false noble- 
man, 266 



Richter on a wife, 154 

Ritchie, Mrs., on Ruskin*s 
conversation, 84 

Riley, James Whitcomb, how 
he persevered, 279 

Robertson, Frederick, what 
he made of conversation, 
57; his sermons, 57 

Rousseau, Jean Jacques, in- 
fluence of Diderot on, 59; 
his first essays, 59; his con- 
versation with David Hume, 
194 

Ruskin's conversation, 84; on 
the beauties of nature, 134 

Ryland, Dr., what he said to 
John Jay, 141 

Salons, French, fountains of 
inspiration to the author, 
86 

Sainte Beuve, 34 

Schoeder, Magnus, dedication, 
3 

School room, putrid matter 
in, 271 

Schopenhauer on vulgar peo- 
ple, 192, 193 

Schurz, Carl, his English, 296 \ 
on Henry Clay, 24 

Scotch witticisms, 108 

Scotch character, 168 

Scott, Sir Walter, story told 
by him, 141-149; his long 
lip, 292; origin of his 
stories, 45, 294, 295 

Scott, William and John, their 
trick, 109 



Index 



343 



Sculptor, young, his courage, 
327 

Selden, John, 22, 23; at the 
Mermaid, xi 

Shakespeare, 50-52; his edu- 
cation, 18; age of, x; quota- 
tion from xvii, 40; his wom- 
en, 150, 322 

Shaw, Bernard, on economy, 
266 

Shelley, Percy B., compared 
with Byron, 63; quotation 
from 42 

Sheridan, his "Rivals," 40; 
reply to royal dukes, 104; 
the orator, his witticisms, 
330; his death, 330 

Shyness, cure for, 295 

Sigel, General, what his coun- 
trymen did for him, 314 

Simpson, Bishop, at Exeter 
Hall, 105 

Sleep, its advantages, 322; 
how produced, 322; how it 
begins, 324; sleeping with 
open windows, 289 

Slick, Sam, on talk, 4 

Smalley, G. W., on Macaulay, 
80; his story about an Eng- 
lishman, 217; his description 
of the English, 217; on con- 
versation in London society, 
231 

Smith, Adam, his encounter 
with Dr. Johnson, 229 

Smith, Sydney, 130; in the 
country, 129; his shyness, 
128; on potatoes, 125; his 



meeting with Robert Cham- 
bers, 168; on Macaulay, 82; 
his opinion of the Scotch, 
36; what he thought of 
country life, 133; his death, 
84 

Socrates, his sayings, 8; how 
he taught, 27 

Soldiers that make no music, 
286 

Speaker who dropped chest- 
nuts, 171 

"Spectator," London, on con- 
versation of strangers, 204 

Speech at the Lotus, 176 

Speech of a young orator, 

Spell out your first name, 303 

Spencer, Herbert, his book on 
education, 10 

Storm at the Samoa Islands, 
how American sailors act- 
ed, 320 

Story of a rich American, 
286 

Story, chief justice, compli- 
ment to, by Edward Ever- 
ett, 283 

Student at Oberlin, 303 

Sullivans and Donavans, 164 

Sumner, Charles, 102 

Swift, Dean, on conversation, 
67 

Swinton, John, at the Twi- 
Hght Club, 175 

Swiss beggar, how he acted, 
308 

Talleyrand nearly hanged, 88 ; 



344 



Index 



his reply to Madame de 
Stael, 88 
Tanner, Dr., his witty saying, 

Taylor, Robert W., at the 
Twilight Club, 163 

Teachers, how appointed in 
Paris, 216 

Teacher tells how he became 
one, 214; in France, 214 

Tennyson, Lord Alfred, his 
shyness, 35; story of, 198 

Thackeray, William M., his 
reception of Miss Bront6, 
330 

The bull and the judge, 110 

Things interesting for conver- 
sation, 257 

Thoreau and the wood- 
chopper, 131 

Thring of Uppingham, xii 

Tichborne case, 6 

Tobacco and wine, talk on, 
167 

Too late, 291 

Town and country, which best 
for study, 133 

Trelawney's reflections on 
Byron and Shelley, 62 

Trenton, the heroic conduct of 
her sailors, 321 

Turning points in life, 171, 
172 

Twilight Club, its meetings, 
157; influence of secretary 
on, 159; its influence on the 
author, preface ; speeches 
in, 155 



Van Dyke, Dr., as a humorist, 
103 

Victoria, Queen, reference to, 
105 

Vincent, Bishop, his introduc- 
tion of a speaker, 104 

Voltaire, his use of conversa- 
tion, 58; Morley on, 58; on 
Holland, 215 

Vomit and retch, 324 

Waldgrave, Countess of, her 
quick reply, 93 

Wales, Prince of, and Sheri- 
dan, 331 ; interview with 
American lady, 125, 126 

Water, cold, 305 

Watson, Dr., in the "Bonnie 
Brier Bush," 101 

Wealth, advantages of, 145 

Weber, Dr., his rules for 
health, 29 

Webster, Daniel, his educa- 
tion, 23; his conversation at 
his hospitable table, 257 

Whistling, what the minister 
said, 312 

White, Andrew, his address at 
CorneU, 281 

Wilson, President Woodrow, 
xxi 

Wilson, Professor, his "Noctes 
Ambrosianae," 202 

Windbags, lawyer on, 110 

Wingate, Charles F., at the 
club, 155 

Winslow, E., on broad backs, 
293 



Index 



345 



Wit and humor at the Twi- 
light Club, 161-163 

Witticisms, dreary, 330 

Wordsworth, the poet, on 
Shakespeare, 80 

Woman a fine converser, 151 



Women, their wisdom, 275; 
their condition in the pagan 
world, 30; in their own 
country, 30; their polishing 
influence, 146; a remarkable 
converser, 146 



SEP i'. 1907 



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